Catch A Tyger By His Tail
by Pellegrina
Summary: A visit to the carnival sets in motion a series of unexpected events in the lives of Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon... Fifth and final part and the conclusion of my story arc. With the special appearance of one notorious serial killer…
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the fifth and final part of my story arc. To understand what's going on, you might want to read the first four parts of it as well or expect to feel completely lost. The fics to read ahead of this one are "Food For Thought", "A Mockingbird In A Fir Tree", "Making A Night Of It", and "Whatever Floats Your Boat". **

**This fic is a direct continuation of the last one mentioned ("Whatever...") and starts only a few hours later early on Sunday morning.  
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**As the characters in this story are in a committed relationship and are adults, they do express their feelings physically as well, which makes this an M rated fic. There'll also be some violence, but nothing too graphic. **

**And a fair warning: This will be a rather long story. I've already written a lot of it and it's still not complete, though the end is in sight - for me at least.  
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**I've given Jane and Lisbon quite a bit of additional background during the course of this story arc. I've tried to stay in compliance with the few facts we get about their lives ****on the show from ****before they joined the CBI. But as I have elaborated on that a lot, the characters might appear OOC. This is enhanced by the intensity and closeness of their newfound intimate relationship, which gives them a place to express themselves much more openly than we're used to in canon, where the bounds of friendship are never crossed.  
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**Once again I would like to thank my beta 'firstdown' for her great work, her encouragement, and the nice internet friendship across continents, which has developed between us during the course of this cooperation.  
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**All remaining mistakes are mine of course.  
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**Neither 'The Mentalist' nor any other works from other sources mentioned in this fic are mine. I only show my deepest respect for their great achievements by using them for my enjoyment for a while.  
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**Sorry for the long author note... but one last thing: I want to thank all the loyal readers, who have born with me so far. I hope, I can sustain your interest a while longer yet...  
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**I'm a sucker for reviews and appreciate all your comments... hint, hint...  
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**Catch A Tyger By His Tail**

Teresa Lisbon was pulled out of a deep slumber when a flailing hand connected painfully with her cheek. She cried out and was fully awake in a matter of seconds. She quickly oriented herself, recalling the where and when and whom with, the last part helped along greatly by her bedmate's frantic shouts.

"Get'ff, get'ff. Please, leave me'lone. No more, no more, please," were the words she managed to identify from Patrick's garbled sleep-talk.

He was obviously in the middle of a nightmare and according to what she could gather from his cries, this one didn't seem to be about blood and smiley-faces for a change. Well, they had expected something like that to happen already the night before, so neither the fact nor the content surprised her. But she had hoped for his sake that he would be spared for once. The poor guy never got a break, it seemed. But after their heavy conversation the previous evening, this was to be expected. He had a lot of things to work through in his subconscious.

She opted to heed his wishes for the moment and left her position on top of him. He obviously felt trapped right now and the last thing she wanted to do was cause him more anguish. She was a bit undecided whether to wake him or not.

A glance at her alarm clock told her, that it was 3:15 am. If she remembered correctly, they'd prepared for bed around midnight. She'd fallen asleep not too long afterwards, meaning she'd had about three hours, but how much sleep Patrick had gotten was anyone's guess. Probably not more than two. The question was whether a nightmare filled one was better than none. She really didn't know, but his shouts were heart-breaking. She had just about made up her mind when the decision was taken from her. He woke up with a gasp and sat up straight, eyes wide open in fear and remembered pain.

She took hold of one of his hands and started to draw circles on the back of it with her thumb. She had done that before, when she'd comforted him after a bad dream during their time as roomies, and it seemed to calm and ground him.

"You're fine, Patrick. You just had a nightmare. Everything's fine," she said in a soothing voice.

"Teresa?" he croaked.

"Yes, imp. I'm right here with you," she confirmed.

He turned his had and sought her eyes in the darkness. The streetlights offered just enough light to make out her face. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No problem. It's not like you did it on purpose. Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

"I… no, I don't think so. Just some stupid memories. Nothing much to talk about. Thanks for the offer, though," he answered, getting up from the bed.

"Are you sure? Where are you going?" she asked.

He had nearly reached the bedroom door when he replied. "For a walk. To clear my mind. Just go back to sleep, love. I'm fine."

She got up as well and followed, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. "Patrick, please. Why don't we just talk it through? I don't want you to be alone."

"Well, incidentally, I want to be alone right now, Lisbon. Could you please unhand me?" he said in an almost cold voice.

She released him. "I don't like your tone, Patrick. Just because you're hurting doesn't give you the right to treat me like that."

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her with a guilty expression. "I apologize, Teresa. You are right, of course. I didn't mean to snap at you. Still, I need some time on my own. It has nothing to do with you. I just need to sort a few things out. I promise, I'll be back in a few hours, okay? You just go back to bed. I'll be fine, really. No reason to worry."

"I still don't like it," she said, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. "I want to be there for you. You are not alone anymore, Patrick. I want to help you."

He leant down and kissed her lightly. "I appreciate that, Teresa. I really do. But this is something I have to do on my own. A lot of heavy topics have come up lately and I need some time to put things into perspective. That's how my mind works, love. It's always been like that. And walking helps me to sort things out. It's nothing personal." He paused a moment. "Well actually, you were the one who gave me quite a lot to think about, so essentially it's your own fault, really." The last words had been accompanied by a little smirk that had the desired effect to reassure her a bit.

She took hold of his face between her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "I can't very well lock you in. But please keep your promise and come back. I don't want to sit here and worry about you ever again." She pressed her lips to his for a short, almost desperate kiss, a lone tear leaving her eye.

He wiped the tear away tenderly and pulled her into a hug. "Sh, Emy. It's alright. I promise, I won't leave you. I'll just stroll through your neighborhood for a while. I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now, anyway. I'll be back before you wake up again. Please don't worry. I love you," he whispered gently into her ear.

"Alright. But I still don't have to like it," she said slightly defiant. A yawn destroyed the effect a little.

"How about a compromise? I'll stay with you, until you've fallen asleep again. That way, you won't even realize I'm gone," he suggested kindly, seeing how tired she was.

She smiled at him. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course. I never meant to hurt you with this. I'm just not used to having someone around anymore, someone who might worry. For nearly a decade, I've pretty much been doing whatever, whenever I felt like it. Physical activity is one of my favorite pastimes during sleepless nights," he explained. "Maybe because I'm mostly lazing around on couches during the day…" he added with a grin.

She took a hold of his hand and pulled him back into the bedroom. "Will you lie down with me?" she asked sleepily.

"That wouldn't be very practical. I don't want to wake you, when I leave, after all. But I can tuck you in." He offered.

She lay down on her usual side of the bed and he spread the comforter over her, making sure to cover her completely, so only her head peeked out. She took the position she normally slept in, turned on the side so she was facing the door. Patrick sat down beside her on the bed, resting his back against the head board.

One of his hands stroked her back soothingly, while he started to talk to her in a mesmeric voice. "Why don't you close your eyes, love? Your lids are so heavy with sleep. Isn't it peaceful here? Listen to my voice. Isn't it peaceful? You are so exhausted, your whole body feels heavy. Let the mattress carry all the weight. Yes, just like that. Let it all melt away. You are very relaxed, no worries on you mind, everything has melted away. Feel the peace, love. Sleep now."

Her eyelids had drooped nearly the moment he'd started to talk her into a trance and when he uttered his last order, she dropped off into a deep sleep immediately.

* * *

Teresa awoke again at nine am and her first conscious thought was: 'The bastard hypnotized me!'

But she had to admit that she felt incredibly well rested and refreshed. She turned on her back and cast a look to his side of the bed. As she had expected, it was empty. She got up slowly, her head still feeling a bit dizzy with sleep. She found her sweatpants and t-shirt from the day before lying discarded on the floor beside her bed and put them on. When she opened the bedroom door, she could hear faint noises from her kitchen, indicating that Patrick had indeed returned. She sighed with relief. It was obvious she still had quite a few issues when it came to trusting him and his promises. But at least it seemed like he did his best to alleviate her fears. She appreciated that very much.

She went down the stairs and rounded the corner to her kitchen, stopping before entering to take a good look at him. He wore his jeans again and one of his dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up and only the first three buttons at the bottom closed. He was exhausted, that much was clearly visible by the prominent bags under his eyes. But other than that, he seemed to be in a good mood. An intense aroma of chocolate whiffed over to her and it was first now she really noticed that he was puttering around with something in deep concentration.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he answered looking up from his task with a warm smile. "I didn't hear you. Your sneaking abilities are really coming along. Good for you," he grinned, going back to his work. "Oh, and there's coffee for you in the pot over there." He motioned with his head. "Should be fresh enough still. I made it about fifteen minutes ago. Figured, you'd be ready to wake up right about now."

She padded over to him and found his mouth for a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and tea. She moaned happily. Coming to her senses again, she broke the kiss and punched him on the shoulder hard enough for it to hurt.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed with indignation. "What did you do that for?"

"You hypnotized me, you bastard!"

"I did no such thing. It was merely a light trance to help you relax enough to fall asleep. Nothing sinister and certainly no reason to cause me bodily harm," he explained. "And you did sleep well, didn't you? So what's the problem?"

"I don't want you in my mind, okay? I already let you into pretty much everything else, but my mind is my own, got that?" she stated emphatically.

He looked at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Teresa, dear. I wasn't in you mind. That's not how it works. I only made a few suggestions…"

She interrupted him angrily. "Don't patronize me, Patrick Jane! I don't want to be manipulated like that. Period. Play your stupid mind games with other people, but not with me."

His eyes had lost their sparkle and he looked like a chastised little boy. "I just wanted you to get some rest. You were too agitated to fall asleep. I only helped you to relax a bit. It wasn't my intention to play mind games with you. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

She went over to the coffee pot and found an empty mug already waiting for her to be filled. She poured herself a good portion of the hot beverage, took a deep swallow and let the bitter liquid soothe her.

"It's okay, Patrick. I understand." She took a deep, steadying breath. "But you know how uncomfortable I am with all this mental stuff. Please don't do something like that again without asking my permission first. Can we agree on this?"

"Yes, certainly. I'm really sorry, Teresa. For me it's so much second nature sometimes I forget that it's not like that for the rest of the world." Looking up again from whatever he was doing, he cast her a wistful look. "Do you know how much I wished I could do that particular exercise on myself? But unfortunately, meditation doesn't help my insomnia. Sorry, I made you so uncomfortable. I'm an idiot. I should have known how you'd feel about it. It was a very thoughtless thing to do."

She sat down her nearly empty mug and came over to him. She put her arms around his waist from behind, so she was embracing him with her chest to his back.

"As I said, you're forgiven. Just don't do it again." She got up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his neck. "What are you doing anyway? You never answered my question. All I see, is lots of white chocolate. And though I love chocolate, I hope it's not meant to be our breakfast."

He snickered. "Nah, our breakfast is in the oven. Well, part of it. I've made some biscuits. They should be ready in a few minutes."

"You made biscuits from scratch? Have I told you that I love you lately?" she asked in awe.

He laughed, both at her astonishment and for being off the hook again. "Sweet-talk will get you everywhere with me, Emy. I had quite a bit of time on my hands, so I used it productively."

"Yes, well. We've settled the breakfast question but you still haven't explained what you're doing with all the chocolate," she announced.

She released him and picked up her coffee cup again. She could see his mien turning a bit bashful and was very confused about it.

"Van Pelt's birthday is coming up next week," he said in way of an explanation.

"Yes, and?"

"She seemed to really enjoy the chocolate truffles last year, so…" he said, embarrassment clouding his voice.

"You are making chocolate truffles from scratch? For Grace?" she asked amazed. "Why don't you just buy some like last year? She absolutely loved those, by the way. I remember that she bugged you for weeks afterwards to reveal the name of the confectionary where you got them, but you, of course, wouldn't blab." She smiled fondly. Suddenly a look of comprehension crossed her face. "No way! That's just… You made them yourself last year as well, didn't you? That's why you wouldn't tell her where you bought them." She smiled warmly at him. "Jane, sometimes you really are too good to be true."

He seemed very uncomfortable now and busied himself to avoid looking at her.

"There's nothing wrong with being kind, Patrick. Why are you always hiding things like that from everyone?" she asked carefully.

He shrugged nonchalantly and went over to the oven to check on the biscuits. Deeming them ready, he grabbed some oven mitts, covered his hands, and took them out. The smell was enticing.

Teresa realized she wouldn't get anything else out of him at the moment and decided to make herself useful and lay the table. She got the necessary cutlery and dishes and asked, "Where do you want to eat? Shall we be extra adventurous and use my dinner table for once?"

He grinned at her. "What a marvelous idea, Lisbon. However did you come up with such an ingenious plan?"

"You do know what they say about sarcasm, imp, right?" she teased.

He just snickered and went to the fridge to get the rest of their breakfast items and followed her to the table. He went back to the kitchen and she accompanied him, stealing a kiss in the process. "I'll get my coffee and your tea. Can you manage the rest."

"Sure thing. I'll just have to put the ganache into the pantry. It has to settle for a while, before I can continue. I'll be back in a minute," he explained.

She took the coffee and the tea pot and their two mugs and went back to the table, all the while shaking her head. "Gun-natch? What the hell is that supposed to mean? That man…" she murmured to herself.

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**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

He appeared with the rolls and the rest of their breakfast just a few minutes later. They sat down and started to eat in comfortable silence, only speaking occasionally to ask the other for an item they couldn't reach.

After a while he started to talk. "Ganache is the main part of a chocolate truffle. It's a mixture of butter, cream and chocolate and in this particular case some Marc de Champagne, which is a spirit distilled from the pomace of champagne grapes. All of this put together is basically the inside of the chocolate. At this stage, it needs to stand and cool for a few hours, before it's ready for the next part of the process. It might disappoint you deeply, but it has nothing at all to do with guns, I'm afraid." He sent her a knowing smile.

"How did you…? No, forget I asked," she huffed. "Sometimes you sound like a walking encyclopedia, Jane."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he inquired carefully.

"I'm still undecided," she answered, slightly miffed. "Sometimes it makes me feel stupid. I don't like that."

"Well, you are not. I'm just a know-it-all with too much time to read, Teresa. And an unhealthy urge to constantly share his useless drivel," he admitted sheepishly.

She reached out over the table to grab one of his hands and squeeze it gently. "I accepted a long time ago that you are smarter than me, Patrick. I don't mind that. Sometimes it's just irritating how knowledgeable you are and how many gaps I seem to have in my general education. But I guess it's my own fault for comparing myself with you of all people." With a lighter voice she added, "I don't think I would do so badly stacked up against anybody else. You shouldn't feel bad about your knowledge. It's hard earned, I know that."

"I don't intend to make you feel stupid, Teresa. I wouldn't dream of it. You are one of the most intelligent people I know. I hold a huge respect for your intellect. You have official permission to punch me, whenever I make you feel inferior," he said seriously, returning her hand-squeeze.

"As if I needed any permission to do that," she grinned, letting go of his hand, so she could continue with her breakfast. "These biscuits are delicious by the way. Thank you."

"I probably should have warned you. It's an old carnie recipe. Not that that is dangerous or contagious or something. But people tend to be a bit skeptical when it comes to traveling folk," he explained.

"Really? Who taught you how to make them?" she asked with genuine interest.

He looked pleased at that. "Berta, The Lady With The Beard," he answered. "She was Pete's wife. Died about eleven years ago. Great woman," he added with a fond smile.

"What kind of beard? Was it real?" she inquired.

He chuckled. "Oh yes, as real as can be. It would have covered every inch of her face, if she hadn't been shaving several times a day. Well, actually she had a chronic condition called hypertrichosis. Not a nice thing to have for a woman, but it paid off on the carnival at least. I would say she was the closest thing to a mother I've ever had. But she wasn't very happy with me when I left." He said the last part a bit sadly. "She wasn't too fond of the Ruskin family. Didn't like me getting together with Angela." He paused a moment before he huffed, "A pity, really. Prejudices are such crap. Given the chance, they would've hit it off, I'm sure of it. Well, doesn't matter now anyway, they are both dead after all. But baking she could, dear Berta. No doubts about that."

"You know, I'm very happy you're willing to share things about yourself with me," Teresa said.

He cast her a serious look. "I wouldn't mind if you returned the favor, my dear. I would love to hear some stories from your past."

She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, Patrick. I'm not holding back information willfully. It's just that these past days have been about you for the most part. And I appreciate the fact that you are opening up a bit. There'll be plenty of time for me to divulge my childhood secrets."

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied, smiling at her kindly. "Say, do you have any plans for today?"

"No. Is there anything specific you want to do?" she asked.

He looked a bit uncomfortable and undecided. "Well. Actually. I talked with Andy earlier. He called to ask me if we wanted to come with him and Sheila and visit Ben at the carnival. It's his last day here in Sacramento. I'm not sure whether I want to go or not. What do you think?"

"I think it's a splendid idea. I'd really like to see them again. And I haven't been to a carnival in years. Will Pete be there, too?" she inquired.

He shook his head no. "This is a different carnival circuit, Teresa. Not the one I used to travel with. But I'm sure there'll be an elephant or two around anyway. And you can meet Andy's folks. There is a certain chance that Joe might be around as well. But I promise, I'll keep my cool this time."

"Oh I have complete trust in you. But chances are I'll beat him up, the bastard," she snarled.

"Don't you dare, Lisbon! I won't allow my lady friend to beat up the big bad guy for me. I might be a modern and enlightened man, but there are limits to how much humiliation my male dignity can bear. I already know you are a mean, hard-ass cop, no reason to prove that any further." He winked at her. "Ah, speaking of which. Let me be the one to pick out your outfit for the day, okay? Not a smart move to signalize law enforcement all that glaringly at a carnival, you know," he said with a smile.

"I don't always look like a cop, Jane. Your lot is just overly distrustful, for whatever reason," she said with conviction.

He snickered tauntingly. "Yes, sure thing. Not a trace of cop in you, Agent Lisbon. Sorry to disappoint you, but you look like a cop even in the nude, love. I don't mind, of course, but I'm not your average carnie either. Not to worry. I'll find the most appropriate un-coppish outfit you own and you'll be fine."

"I am still able to dress myself, Mr. Jane, thank you very much," she hissed.

"Sour spot, Agent Lisbon?" he teased. "You look very cute when you're angry."

"Shut up, Jane. You're annoying me," she said in a tone illustrating that fact clearly.

"Don't like to be called cute much, do you? Well, join the club." He cast her a smug look.

She rolled her eyes and calmed down again. She had to admit that he was at least partly right. Not that she intended to tell him so. She poured herself another cup of coffee and leaned back in her chair to savor it.

* * *

"Did you tell Andy about us?" she inquired a while later.

"I didn't know whether you would be comfortable with it or not. We haven't really talked about it," he answered.

"I think you should, Patrick. I don't mind. It'll be nice to be in the open, at least with your friends around. I'm still not sure about the team, though. What's your take on it?" she asked.

He looked her directly in the eyes with a very open expression. "I would shout it from the highest tower in the city, if you allowed me to. I'm the luckiest man and I would like to share it with the whole world. But for the moment, I'm perfectly content with just telling Andy, Sheila and Ben. Other than that, as I said yesterday, it's up to you. I'll follow your lead."

She smiled at him. "Shout it from a tower? Honestly, Jane. That's rather sappy again, you know that, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Well, I would do it."

"And the scary thing is I fully believe you," she chuckled.

He just grinned deviously.

* * *

They finished their breakfast soon afterwards and started to clear the table.

"Well, let's see. It's a quarter past ten now. Would it be alright if I told Andy and Sheila to meet us at the fairground around two pm? That would leave us with ample time to clean up the kitchen, have hot sex on the counter, shower and change," Patrick reeled off, completely straight-faced.

"Excuse me, but I'm not sure I heard the part in the middle correctly." She smiled benignly.

"Oh, I'm rather sure you did. See you in a few. I have a phone call to make," he told her snootily and left in search of his cell phone.

She snickered and felt her heart skip a beat in anticipation. Just to get back at him a bit, she decided to eavesdrop on his conversation with Andy. Besides, she was genuinely curious, how he would tell his oldest friend about the new development in his personal life. Hidden from sight by her bookshelf, she watched him pacing in the sitting room. It was a pity, she could only hear Patrick's side of the conversation, but she listened attentively, having to fight the urge to laugh out loud more and more.

"Hi, Andy. I talked with Teresa and we're joining you." He paused, apparently listening. "I'm glad to hear that you're exstatic about it." She saw him grin.

"I would like to tell you something important, before we meet," he said seriously, and had to pause for at least a minute, presumably because Andy talked ninteen to a dozen. She could see Patrick rolling his eyes.

"No, it's nothing bad. Could you please shut up for a sec, mate?" he tried again, not very successful it seemed. "There's no reason to worry, Andy, just let me…" He sighed and shook his head in exasperation.

"Oh, hi Sheila. Did you steal the phone from that idiot? Are you willing to listen for a moment? Andy seems unable to…" He was obviously interrupted again and rolled his eyes once more. "What's wrong with you people? Do you ever manage to have a sensible conversation together? Or are you just driving each other nuts like you do me?" He chuckled.

"What? You're accusing me of not getting to the point now? Incredible." He raised his brows and spoke up again, voice full of amusement. "Okay, I will just come right out and say it – heaven knows, whether you'll be actually listening, but…" He laughed out loud. "I'm taxing your patience? Really? Well, join the club."

Another minute went by. "That sounds great. So you're both calm and attentive. Perfect. Alright, here it comes: Teresa and I are together now." He looked a bit anxious after his declaration.

But then he chuckled. "Yes, Andy, like in having sex." Lisbon could hear a very high-pitched sound emanating from his cell phone. "Gosh, Sheila! I'm certainly deaf now." Another loud noise was audible even where Teresa stood. Patrick held the phone at least two feet away from his head and shouted. "Andy? Control your wife. Her squeals are hurting my sensitive ears." The piercing sounds stopped and he put the phone back to his ear.

Then a beautiful smile took over his whole face. "Thank you. Yes, I'm very happy." The smile turned into a satisfied grin. "Well, I certainly hope so. She seems happy enough to me, but you can ask her in person later." He nodded. "Okay, let's make it two o'clock on the parking lot, see you."

He closed his phone and breathed out in obvious relief. She couldn't stop herself any longer and broke out into a fit of laughter.

* * *

"Eavesdropping, Agent Lisbon? How naughty." He went over to her and pulled her into a fierce kiss, effectively stopping her laughing. It turned heated fast.

She broke the kiss a long moment later, starting to unbutton his shirt. "I assume they approve?"

"Huh?" He was already too aroused to think clearly.

"Andy and Sheila. They approve of us being together?" she asked again.

He looked at her with hungry eyes, but at least a modicum of comprehension. "Yes, they do. Andy even asked whether we had sex and all that. Do we? Very soon?"

She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Absolutely. Why don't you get naked and lie down on the couch? I'll be back in a minute. It's not the kitchen counter but I'd prefer it that way."

"Wherever you want to, Teresa. I feel like a randy teenager these days. Hurry, will you?" He moaned, kissing her again greedily.

She pushed him back, before things could get too much out of hand. "Couch, naked, mister. I won't be long."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are very much appreciated. Thanks for your support.  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Explicit sexual content in this one.**

* * *

When she came back into the living room, she could see immediately that he had followed her orders. She took in the sight of him lying naked on the couch and she was afraid, that from now on this would be exactly the picture that would form in her mind each time she saw him lying on any couch. This could cause problems at work…

He was so beautiful like that. His head was propped up a bit by a pillow, his eyes were closed and his face showed mere pleasure. His lips were slightly parted and she could hear silent moans escaping his mouth. She let her gaze wander down his body and she realized, that he was fondling himself lightly. Her arousal, that had diminished a bit while she'd gone to her bedroom to retrieve a condom, hit her again with full force.

With a few long strides she reached him. "Thought, you could begin without me, imp?"

"No, you were here the whole time, Emy. I have a very clear picture of you in my mind," he said with a seductively hoarse voice. "Are you going to lose your clothes any time soon?"

"All in due time, Patrick," she answered airily. She bend down to kiss him, but didn't make any moves to join him on the couch. On the contrary, she stalled all his attempts to pull her on top of him. "Patience, Jane. If I let you have your way now, I know, you'll run the whole show. It's not going to happen like that this time, okay?"

"Got it, your show," he moaned. "But please do something, my patience is wearing thinner as we speak."

She snickered. "Oh, you still seem coherent enough. Let's see, if we can put a stop to that."

She got down on her knees and took hold of his erection. He groaned needily. She lowered her head and pressed a kiss to the top of it, getting a first taste of him. She decided she liked it well enough and proceeded to take him into her mouth.

His fevered cries were music to her ears. She'd never much enjoyed this particular practice, but with him everything seemed to be different. Making him feel that good, turned her on in ways she'd not expected. She continued a while longer, but made sure to stop in time. She didn't want him to come just yet. He was panting, watching her with a look so filled with love, it touched her deep inside. She'd expected a greedy, randy expression, not this.

She extracted the condom from the pocket of her sweatpants, opened the package and pulled it tenderly over his penis. Searching for his eyes, which were following her every move, she pulled her shirt over her head and got rid of her pants.

She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and lowered herself slowly onto his erection. When he was fully inside of her, she just sat there for a moment facing him. "I love you, Patrick," she said, her voice lazed with emotion.

He reached out with one of his hands and touched her arm in a light caress. "I love you too, Teresa," he answered in a tone that very much resembled hers.

Despite their initial frenzy, it turned into a slow and protracted act, both enjoying the closeness too much to let go too soon. They explored each others' bodies and shared passionate kisses, their arousal growing slowly but continuously. She suspected the application of one or two bio-feedback tricks on his part because she knew just how close he'd been to coming already. She didn't mind at all.

More than twenty minutes into their joining, they were both covered in sweat, panting from the long physical activity, when he decided, that enough was enough. "Sorry, I know it's supposed to be your show, but…" he gasped out. In a sudden move, he flipped them around, never leaving her body, and started to thrust into her with an urgent force.

She was shocked at first by his bold move, but it felt too good for her to complain. She groaned approvingly and gave in to him. Not five minutes later, they both cried out their releases nearly in perfect synchrony.

She was grateful he had the presence of mind to turn them both to their sides right afterwards. His weight would have crushed her otherwise, because he was out like a light not a minute later.

She got up from the couch smiling at his sleeping form indulgently. She removed the used condom carefully and he didn't even twitch. The poor guy must have been really tired and exhausted after his very short night. She spread a blanket over him and decided, she could let him sleep at least for a good hour.

She spent another five minutes just watching him sleep. He had always looked like a fallen angel to her in this state, right from the first time she had seen him in an exhausted slumber on his beloved couch in the bullpen on his second day as a consultant.

If she was really honest, that was the exact moment she'd fallen in love with him and pushed those same feelings deep into the back of her mind, unable to act on them for almost nine years. Now that the genie was out of the bottle however, there was no chance, she could ever shove it back in. She felt a sudden urge to lean down and peck his cheek lightly, hoping she wouldn't wake him. He only sighed in his sleep and the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a small smile. God, how she loved that man.

* * *

"Patrick, love. You have to wake up," Teresa said gently from her kneeling position beside the couch, on which he was still sleeping.

She played with his curls and waited for him to come to awareness. On a whim, she decided to wake him further sleeping-beauty-style with a deep kiss. That got his attention fast. He opened his eyes, saw her smiling eyes and kissed her back in a matter of seconds.

"That's a nice way to wake up, Teresa," he said huskily after she had broken the kiss. "How long was I out?"

She continues to play with his hair. "Nearly an hour and a half. It's a quarter to one, so you have time to drink the tea I've made for you and catch a shower before we have to leave."

"Thank you, my love. That's very thoughtful. I'm feeling exceedingly spoilt," he announced with a smile full of happiness and reached out for the steaming mug on the coffee table.

She felt a sting of sadness at his remark and decided she had to spoil him a lot more in the future. He did all those nice little things for her and the team all the time, like bringing her coffee and bear claws at the office, or cooking for her, bringing fresh fruit for the team and many other little somethings and obviously he never expected anything back. As was proven right now by the man ecstatic just because she'd prepared him a simple cup of tea.

On second thought she realized it had probably been ages since anyone had done something to spoil him. Hell, she couldn't even remember ever getting him so much as a birthday present. And the team had voted him out of their annual Secret Santa, because the first time he'd participated, he'd figured out who had drawn whom in a matter of seconds and ruined all the fun.

As a consequence, he hadn't even gotten a Christmas gift in years, though he had bought one for each of them every year. Very thoughtful presents actually, which he always left on their desks on their last working day before the holidays without a card attached to identify him as the donor.

She felt a bit ashamed of her self all of a sudden. She just took his small tokens for granted, she realized. Well, she could of course justify it as reparation for the many grievances he caused her with his mischief and scams. But in all honesty, he deserved some spoiling as well. After all, he had been through so much over the years.

He had sat up on the couch and looked at her with worry in his eyes. "What's the matter, Teresa? Did I do something wrong? You look so sad. I'm really sorry if I did something to upset you," he said with remorse in his voice. "Was it me falling asleep on you like that? I'll make sure, it won't happen again."

She pulled him into a fierce hug. "No, love. You didn't do anything wrong. You needed to sleep, I'm glad you got some rest at least."

"Then what's the matter? There must be something."

"I just decided you need to be spoilt more," she said with conviction, loosening her hold on him so he could finish his tea.

"I do?" he asked, confused.

"Absolutely. I realized that I've been extremely negligent when it comes to spoiling you, Patrick, and I'm very sorry for that," she explained.

He shook his head in astonishment. "I don't know what you're talking about. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Teresa."

"Yes, I do. When was the last time you got a real gift, Patrick?" she asked.

"What kind of gift are we talking about?"

"A gift, Patrick. You do know, what a gift is, right? Like something nice you had wished for a long time but wouldn't buy for yourself. Like that first edition book you got for Cho last Christmas," she explained impatiently.

"I should probably buck up if I want to take that shower before we have to leave," he said getting out of her embrace and up from the couch in one determined move.

She followed him into the bathroom resolutely. "You are not walking out on me like that, Patrick Jane. Why can't you just answer my question?"

He had already started the shower and gotten in but that didn't deter her. "Answer me!" she ordered.

"I don't know what to say, okay? I guess the last material present I got was a gun. And I don't know if it fits your criteria because I sure as hell hadn't been wishing for it and it caused a lot of trouble afterwards. So was that what you wanted to hear?" he said in irritation, roughly lathering up a washcloth as if it were at fault.

"See, that's exactly what I mean. You haven't gotten a real gift in years, and that's not right, Patrick." Lisbon leaned against the counter as steam from the shower swirled around her and lightly fogged up the mirror. "You have given me and the team so many nice, thoughtful presents over the years, but you never get anything back. I didn't even realize it until now. It's incredible. How could we be so remiss?" she asked sadly.

"Lisbon, listen. I don't need anything material. I already got the best gifts in the world from all of you on the team. Your friendships mean so much more to me than some gadgets. You putting up with me and supporting me even when I'm being at my worst -" he sputtered out a breath as he stuck his face briefly under the spray "- I couldn't wish for anything better, okay? It's a lot more than I deserve," he explained passionately. "And now, let me finish my shower in peace and don't worry about this nonsense anymore."

"It's always about being worthy with you, isn't it? Why the hell shouldn't you deserve a little something at times? It's preposterous of you to think that you haven't earned an outward token of affection once in a while, Patrick. God, you really don't possess an ounce of self-esteem, do you?" she said angrily.

"I'm washing my hair, Lisbon, I can't hear you," he replied.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, you heard me well enough, mister. Don't pretend."

He switched off the water, grabbed a towel and left the stall, coming close enough to invade her personal space. He sought out her eyes, taking a firm, but tender hold of her chin so she was forced to hold his intense gaze, and said earnestly, "Teresa, please. You have given me the greatest gift in the world: yourself and hope and a future. Whether I deserve all that or not, I'm not sure. But I will cling to it with all I have." He paused to let his words sink in.

"I've told you, I don't much care for material things anymore. I had it all, love. I still have quite a bit, to be honest." He caressed her cheek gently with his thumb. "I own a three million dollar beach house in Malibu for crying out loud. And a whole garage full of vintage cars. It means nothing to me anymore, absolutely nothing. Money never did me any favors. You, on the other hand, you mean everything to me. As long as I have you, I don't need any other gifts, okay, my love?" And as an afterthought he added with a teasing smile. "You are allowed to make me tea sometimes, though."

"Okay, I will rest my case… for now. But I still think you should be spoilt more," she said defiantly.

He chuckled. "Oh, I already feel exceedingly spoilt. I've got my own angry little princess at my service, after all. Now shoo, I have to get ready." He reached a hand over to wipe some steam off the mirror. "And you should change. I suggest you wear those washed out jeans you keep hidden in the back of your closet right behind your t-shirts. And that beautiful burgundy sweater of yours would look lovely with them."

"You are insufferable, Jane. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she huffed, looking down at her black pants, blouse and blazer.

"Cop, Teresa. It screams cop," he replied cheekily.

"You're only saying that to annoy me."

He snickered at her defiant expression. "Absolutely not. But if you insist, just go like that and see what will happen. Trust me, Teresa. You're much better off if you follow my suggestions. I'll be proud to be seen with you either way, but you might not like the reactions of some of the carnies."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews warm my heart and might make my characters happier - no guarantees though... this fic will contain quite a bit of angst... But I do grant them happy moments like in this chapter...  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, our favorite couple finally reenters the outside world...**

**Warning: A bit angsty...**

* * *

Grumpily she decided to do as he asked, though she didn't like it one bit. But she did trust him. He came from that world after all, and the last time she'd been to a carnival with him, she'd been identified as a cop by virtually everyone immediately. And she loved those jeans, but didn't really dare to wear them often, because they were so casual and unlike her normal attire. Damn the sneaky bastard for finding them.

She left the bathroom and went to her closet to change. She heard him rummaging in the guest room, which reminded her that she would have to clear out some space in her closet for him. Of course he could use the guest room to stash his things, but it didn't feel right. She wanted this to be their bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror that made up one of the closet doors and had to admit that her outfit looked good, like she was ready for real leisure time.

She stepped out of her bedroom at the same time he left the spare room. He cast her an appreciative look. "Beautiful, Emy. You look absolutely stunning. Still a bit coppish, but that can't be helped."

"Thanks," she said hesitantly.

She looked him over and wasn't so sure about her own outfit anymore. She felt completely underdressed. He wore a charcoal colored suit with a vest in a slightly lighter grey and a crisp white shirt, a perfectly ironed one for once. He even wore black shoes, to her ultimate surprise. His hair was styled as neatly as was possible with his unruly curls. To her, he looked for all the world like the perfect picture of a magician ready for a stage performance in front of thousands of people. Absolutely staggering, in other words, and with a mystical air about him that made her dizzy. He was freshly shaved and wore his usual cologne and she was hard pressed not to tear the clothes off him and ravish him on the spot.

"What the hell, Jane!" she exclaimed after a moment to compose herself. "I'll look like a tramp beside you."

"Nonsense, Lisbon. You look good enough to eat. Burgundy really suits you," he reassured warmly.

"Why did you decide to wear your best suit after asking me to dress in my most casual pair of jeans?" she inquired, still miffed.

He looked at her gravely. "I'm going to meet quite a few people from my past today. This-" he indicated his outfit with a wave of his hand, "-is just a guise, Teresa. I need that, okay? It'll be easier that way. It makes me more comfortable. And it's what people will expect to see." He pecked her lips and added with a wink. "Why don't you see it that way: My jeans are only for you. Like our very own dirty little secret."

"I guess I understand where you're coming from. I still feel a bit underdressed. Anyway, it's time to get going. My car and I'll drive," she said resolutely.

He pouted a bit at that, but decided not to argue for once.

* * *

They drove mostly in silence and Jane caught another nap. At five to two they entered the parking lot adjacent to the fairground. As if on cue, Patrick woke up, yawned, stretched like a cat and said, "Ah, terrific instincts. I always feel it in my left little toe when a carnival is close by."

She chuckled. "I don't believe a word of that, but welcome back to the land of the living."

They left the car and Patrick came around to her side, took hold of her hand and intertwined their fingers. Teresa could see some tension in his demeanor. "Are you nervous, imp?"

"A little, I guess. I hope it's alright to use your hand as a lifeline," he answered slightly sheepishly.

"Absolutely. I like holding hands with you – for whatever reason. Ah, look over there, Ben's waving at us. Come on."

They went over to the entrance of the fairground where the juggler was standing. "Rick, Teresa. How nice to see you again so soon," he exclaimed with a big smile. "And do I see, what I see? Holding hands? Does it mean what it seems to mean?"

The new couple nodded their heads and found themselves immediately in a tight embrace. "Oh, I'm so happy for the two of you! I knew it would happen eventually but I didn't expect it so fast. Good for you."

"Ben? Shouldn't you probably introduce us to the lovely lady at your side, who is incidentally also carrying a baby with your exact nose? No, wait!" Patrick paused a moment and took a better look. "Katy? Katy Stuart? No way! Your parents still own that tunnel of horrors?" he asked smiling.

Ben released Patrick and Teresa and nodded proudly. "Yes, this is my beautiful wife Kathryn and our son Evan. He is nearly a year old. A bit shy right now."

The woman, who'd been silent so far, stepped forward in Jane's direction. "Patrick, it's good to see you. Must be over twenty years since last time. And yes, my folks are still into ghosts. Combined with Ben's parents, imagine the horror for the next generation: shooting ghosts," she grinned and leaned a bit towards Jane to peck him on the cheek.

And at that moment, the special Jane children super charm made a spectacular appearance. The little boy, who until then had done everything to melt into his mother and hide, stretched out his arms in Patrick's direction in the universally known children's gesture saying pick me up.

Jane smiled happily at the little tyke and asked his mother, "May I?"

Kathryn looked at her son in pure astonishment and shook her head in disbelieve. "I don't get it. He's usually very shy with strangers."

She handed the child over to Patrick, who looked like Christmas had come early. "Hello there, little juggler. I'm Patrick. Nice to meet you, Evan." The child gurgled brightly.

Lisbon took that as her cue to introduce herself to the other woman since her lover couldn't be expected to utter anything sensible at the moment. "Hi, I'm Teresa. I'm Jane's boss. And what you're seeing right now, I'm sure every kid instinctively senses at once – that they've found a partner in crime, a kindred spirit, so to speak. It happens each and every time he's in close proximity to someone below the age of 15. Everyone above that age, well, that's another story altogether…"

The two women laughed and shook hands. Kathryn asked, "Boss? I might not know much about law enforcement, but somehow I doubt it involves holding hands with subordinates."

Patrick picked that moment to reenter the adults' conversation. "Yeah, the boss thing is just some rather persistent illusion she's been afflicted with for nearly nine years now. I'm her consultant, hence coequal. And holding hands was by far the best counsel I could give her."

He grinned fondly at his lover and carefully, so as not to spook the small boy he was still carrying, he cupped Teresa's cheek and leaned in for a passionate kiss. Teresa wasn't sure about this PDA but didn't have the heart to rebuff him. She knew him well enough to notice that he was still filled with tension, though playing with Evan had calmed him a bit.

"Oh, young love. What a nice thing to witness," someone spoke from behind Patrick's shoulder. "And a child as well? My, my. It's incredible what you two can accomplish in a matter of 40 hours. Others need months to get there."

Patrick had broken the kiss the moment he heard the voice of his oldest friend. He turned around with a happy smile. "Andy. Good to see you, man," he said before turning his attention to the child in his arms. "Shsh, little one. The big hunk there is safe. No reason to pull a face," he cooed.

Kathryn came forward and said, "Just give him back to me, Rick, so you can greet your friends in peace."

Jane handed the boy over with a disappointed expression. "If I must. He's gorgeous, by the way. Congratulations."

"Yes, he is. Thank you," she replied and gave Patrick's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll have to go and put him down for a nap soon anyway."

* * *

They finished their mutual greetings and went to enter the fairground. Soon after, Katy took her leave. Ben walked over to Jane and asked, "Rick, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure thing. What's the matter?" Patrick inquired curiously.

"You won't like it, I'm afraid. It's about your father."

"What about him? If this is about you telling Teresa things you had no right to divulge, then know that it is only due to her insistence that I'm not reaming you out good right now," Jane said tersely.

Ben looked guilty at the accusation. "Sorry, mate. But I wanted you to have someone to be there for you. And Teresa can't support you without knowing some facts. I'm really sorry I broke your trust like that, but I don't regret it one bit. Especially seeing that you two are actually together now."

"Yeah, well. There's that. And it's the only reason I might forgive you," Jane replied.

"Unfortunately, that isn't the thing I wanted to tell you regarding Alex. No. I don't really know how to sugarcoat this, but your father just showed up here all of a sudden last night," Ben explained cautiously.

"What?!" Patrick exclaimed. "Teresa stop. We're leaving. Now!" he ordered, already turning to go back to the parking lot. He was panting, tension perceptible in his whole stance.

Ben grabbed his shoulder and stopped him mid-step. "Rick, please. Slow down a sec."

"Let me go, you bastard. Why the hell didn't you tell me before I came out here? Fucking hell! And you call yourself my friend?" Patrick cursed in a way completely alien to his normal speech pattern.

Teresa was at his side immediately. "What's going on? What did you do, Ben? Patrick love, what's up? You're shaking."

"I need to leave. Please, let's just leave," he begged her.

"If that's what you want. But why? Please, tell me what's wrong."

Ben stepped up at that. "I'm really sorry. I should have called you and told you. But there's no guaranty you'll even meet him. And maybe it might even do you some good to see him again. It's been over twenty years, Rick."

"Who died and made you god? Have you just suddenly decided that from now on, you know what's best for me? You have no right, absolutely no right to force something like that on me," Jane ranted.

Andy spoke up at that point. "Could someone please enlighten the rest of us on what is going on here?"

Ben answered in a rather subdue voice. "Alex Jane suddenly appeared here with his trailer yesterday evening. He asked the circuit leader Larry for permission to travel with us. Turns out the folks he used to travel with got finally fed up with him and threw him out. Larry hasn't decided his fate yet."

Andy cast an angry glance at his old companion. "Really Ben, how could you do that to Rick? You should have called me."

Patrick was as white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. Teresa held him in a tight embrace and drew comforting circles on his back. "Sh, love. I've got you. It's okay. Come on, let's sit down for a moment. There's a bench just a few steps behind you," she whispered in his ear and steered him in the direction of the seat.

She pushed him down onto it gently and sat close beside him. "Come on. Deep breaths. Yes, just like that. You're doing fine," she calmed him, still caressing his back.

She sighed with relief when she could feel him relax. "Patrick, look at me," she ordered, and he complied. "I'm not happy with this," she cast a murderous glance in Ben's direction, "and I understand it if you want to leave. But I'd much rather you didn't allow that bastard to ruin our day here. He has no power over you. And you're here with your friends, with me, with your real family. You are strong, love. You can deal with this. Don't run away. If you bunk now, you're going to regret it, I'm sure of that. We're all here with you, okay?" she pleaded with him.

Patrick had managed to somewhat compose himself again. He answered quietly so only she could hear him. "I'm not sure I can do this, Emy. You know I'm a coward. I'm not sure I can bear his taunts."

She caressed his cheek. "Patrick, please remember: He only has the power to judge you because you grant it to him. He isn't worthy of that, love. You are a good man, he is not. Never forget that. I love you, my imp. And you are not a coward. Don't sell yourself short, please."

Patrick nodded his head in defeat. "Alright. We'll stay for a while. But if this ends in disaster, I reserve my right to say 'I told you so.'"

"That's the spirit. Come on now. I'm hungry. I want to eat a whole bunch of totally unhealthy carnival food." She stood up, grabbed his hand and pulled him off the bench and back to the rest of their party.

* * *

**TBC**

**Same old: Reviews make my day and all that... and as I'm sick and on sick leave for the whole week, I'm in need of some extra pampering...  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**On to some fun at the fair...?!**

* * *

"Anyone else hungry? I have to feed this one," he pointed at Lisbon and grinned, "or she'll get very grumpy," Jane announced pretending nothing had happened.

The others followed his lead and hoped for the best. Ben was especially relieved he hadn't caused too much trouble.

And so they proceeded to eat almost every available junk food offered at the carnival. A lot of the booth owners recognized Patrick immediately and from their reactions Teresa could tell that he was indeed very well liked here. Considering their obvious pleasure at seeing Jane and the fact, that she was also in the company of a member of the circuit and the son of another carnie family she didn't get to pay for any of the food she ate. On the contrary, they were practically force fed everywhere they went.

To her constant irritation however, every other carnie they encountered made a good-natured cop remark in her direction, which caused her lover to cast her one of his annoying 'see, I was right'-looks each time. Obviously, she really couldn't hide the fact even in her leisure wear, just like Jane had predicted. She was glad, she'd followed his advice and wore something, that showed very clearly that she wasn't on duty. He still got a slap on his arm from her for his gloating every time. There was principle involved after all, as she informed him, when he complained about it.

After eating more than their fill, they paid a visit to Andy's parents. There wasn't that much activity going on at the shooting gallery at that moment, so the owners had some time to great both their daughter-in-law, their son, and his best friend. Especially Andy's mother seemed ecstatic to see Patrick and hugged him warmly.

"It's so good to see you, son. Are you doing alright? Andy's told us a bit about what you're up to these days," she said warmly.

Andy's father was a bit more laid back, but his greeting was friendly as well. "Ah, Rick my boy. How's your shooting these days? Wanna give it a try? Your lady friend can't though. Professionals are not allowed. Wouldn't be fair, would it? Come on, I'll even give you the gun with the straight barrel."

"I don't know, Charles. It's been more than two decades. I'll probably shoot you," Patrick answered.

To say that Teresa was surprised about the way he had reacted, would be an understatement.

"Come on, Ricky. Shoot a red rose for your lovely lady. Or even better: I've seen her eyeing the plush elephant over there. Three shots, three bull's eyes on the moving targets and it's yours," Andy's father baited him.

"Jeez, man! You have a lot of faith in me. I might manage a rose, but the rest…" Jane replied.

"You have the best hand-eye-coordination I've ever seen, son. You don't unlearn something like that. Don't be a chicken, Jane. Show your lady what you're made of," Charles went on.

Patrick snickered. "She's a cop, Charles. You don't believe for a sec that I can impress her with some shooting."

"Well, actually, you could, Jane. I had the impression that you HATE weapons. I'm a tad confused here," Teresa chipped in after she'd managed to close her mouth again.

"Ah, but these are no real weapons. If you hit a person with a shot, it'll probably hurt like hell for a while, but you couldn't possibly kill someone in the process. So, essentially harmless," Patrick explained.

"Well, this I HAVE to see. Come on, Patrick. I want to see you handle a gun. And I'll even take some pictures of it. The rest of the team won't believe me otherwise," Teresa exclaimed happily. "I bet you won't score a single hit," she added with glee.

"You're on, Lisbon. What's the wager?" Patrick asked.

"Loser cooks dinner tonight," Teresa suggested.

"Oh come on. You can do better than that. This way I'll lose in any event. Either I'll have to cook or I'll have to eat your cooking," he teased and earned himself a punch on the arm.

"I know how to cook, mister, thank you very much. But okay. Should I by some miracle lose, you get to drive us home," she proposed convinced of her victory. "And to make sure there are no loopholes: you have to hit the bull's eye at least once."

"Alright, Charles. Hand me the good gun," Patrick demanded.

"Yes, my boy. Show her what a real carnie's made of," Andy's father cheered. His son laughed out loud and Ben grinned as well. "Sorry, Teresa, but you just dug your own grave," Andy snickered.

"Hah! I've actually seen him use a gun once. He hardly knew the front from the rear," she chuckled fondly.

"Still saved your life, Teresa. You shouldn't forget that little detail, my dear," Patrick countered with a devilish grin.

"They're bickering like an old married couple. Isn't it just too cute?" Sheila chipped in. This earned her a death glare from both Jane and Lisbon.

Charles handed Patrick a gun he'd retrieved from somewhere inside the gallery. "Well, give it your best shot, Ricky," he punned.

"Just a minute. I have to get the camera on my cell phone ready. Your complete disgrace has to be saved for posterity," Teresa said tauntingly.

A moment later she was ready to film but blanched. Her goofy consultant, who got incredibly nervous whenever a firearm was close by, stood in front of the moving targets in a perfectly executed stance for shooting. He held the gun confidently and completely steady, took aim and fired the first shot without batting an eyelash. A garish sound announced that he had indeed hit home. He reloaded the gun, aimed a second time and with the precision of a Swiss-made clockwork scored the second hit. Repeating the process, he got ready for the final shot. His third bull's eye was accompanied by an even shriller sound effect and a red blinking light.

Charles switched off the sound and light and patted Patrick's shoulder afterwards. "Told you, you don't unlearn something like that. Though the second one was a close thing. Congratulations anyway, the elephant is yours, son." Leaning a bit closer, he whispered, "Though I'm afraid, we broke that lady friend of yours."

* * *

Patrick handed the gun back and turned his head in Teresa's direction. He guffawed when he saw the expression on her face. She was shell shocked. There was no other way to describe it.

He went over to her and handed her the plush elephant with an elegant bow. "Here, milady. For you. Or would you have preferred a plastic rose, my dear?" he asked nonchalantly.

This led to everyone breaking out into hysterics. She didn't accept the gift.

"You bastard," she exclaimed really miffed. "You do know how to handle a weapon. You played us all for suckers. I don't believe it! And here I thought it was a miracle you actually managed to shoot Hardy and not me. You just pretended. How could you fool me like that, Jane?"

"Ah, come on Lisbon. Don't be a sore loser. You only saw what you wanted to see. I told you, you should consider that I actually saved your life. And for the record: I still hate weapons. That's not a lie. With Hardy it was the first time I touched a real gun, I swear. And I didn't like it one bit." As an afterthought he inquired cautiously. "You aren't really angry, are you?"

He looked at her with his best puppy dog eyes and she couldn't even pretend to stay mad at him any longer. "I'm not sure, Jane. Maybe," she answered teasingly. But when he started to pout as well, she had to smile. "You're such a child, Patrick. Okay, you are forgiven. But just because I filmed the whole thing and I'm sure I can pull one over the rest of the team with it," she added whimsically. "Now, give me that elephant, Jane. It's mine after all."

He pecked her on the lips and handed her the plush toy a second time. "Patrick Jane, the sniper, I still don't believe it," she murmured. He grabbed her hand, the one that wasn't occupied holding the elephant, and intertwined their fingers.

"I did tell you that my best friend's parents had a shooting gallery. Did you really expect, I'd never given it a shot – sorry for the pun. That was a bit naive, Teresa, you have to admit that," he teased her.

"You are a mean little cheat. That's the main reason I should have been suspicious. I should actually always be suspicious when it comes to you," she bantered back.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered warmly, "As long as you never doubt that I love you."

She pulled their entwined hands up to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

"You are really cute together," Andy piped up. "I saw the potential but the reality is much more entertaining, I must say."

All the others signaled their approval to the statement with a nod and grins.

Ben went over to Lisbon's side and whispered with a smirk, "Honestly, Teresa. How long have you known him? I told you, you should never challenge him and most certainly never make a bet with him. He wouldn't have taken you on if he wasn't sure of his victory. You should have known better, really."

"Don't pester my young lady, Ben. I happen to enjoy making bets with her," Patrick barged in with an evil grin, having overheard his friend's words.

"No, Ben is right, Jane. Usually I do know better than to accept a bet from you. I always scold Rigs and Grace when they are gullible enough to. So shame on me," Teresa said self-mockingly.

They made their farewells with Andy's parents. Lisbon savored the sensation of Patrick's hand around hers and marveled at the fact that she didn't mind expressing her feelings for the man in front of his friends. Somehow it seemed totally natural to her. She was usually very restrained when it came to public displays of any kind, but she had no problem with it now. On the contrary, she enjoyed his closeness and his affections a lot. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad and awkward to confess their changed status to the team. She decided she had to think on the subject more in the near future.

* * *

They moved along from the shooting gallery to other attractions. Though it was mostly the women who actively participated in the games, everyone had a lot of fun. A lot of the booth owners wouldn't let the men even try once, the recurring argument being that they knew the games in and out anyway.

Suddenly they heard a voice calling from behind them. "Paddy, is that you?"

Patrick stiffened nearly imperceptibly and strengthened his hold on Teresa's hand. He continued to walk and the others followed his lead.

Running feet could be heard behind them. "Hey, stop. Come on. I know, it's you, Paddy. I heard people talking about you being here."

A hand took hold of Patrick's left shoulder to slow him down. "Come on, you can't ignore your own father, Pat," the other man insisted.

"Don't touch me," Patrick spat, still with his back turned to the pursuer. "Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you." His voice was ice cold.

"Pat, don't you dare talk to me like that. I'm still your father. At least face me like a man and not like the wuss we all know you are," Alex Jane challenged his son.

Patrick shrugged off the offending hand and continued to walk away. But his father wasn't ready to give up. This time he grabbed his son's shoulder hard and turned him around with force, separating him from Lisbon.

The others didn't really know how to react. They wanted to protect their friend but felt they had to let Patrick run the show as long as possible. At the moment he seemed to be holding his own just fine. But Teresa steeled herself to react at once, should the need arise. She stood two steps behind her lover and examined the older Jane with a critical gaze.

Patrick had obviously mostly taken after his mother in the looks department, though he shared his eyes with his father, both in shape and color. She could still guess that the other man must have possessed a certain charm in his younger years, but his unhealthy life style had taken its toll on him and let him appear like a rather nasty bit of work. The cruelness in his eyes – which was fortunately absent from his son's - did the rest. Apart from that, the man seemed downright scruffy, unwashed, and unshaved.

The consultant took in the sight of his father as well. The man looked shabby, smelled of stale alcohol, and seemed to have diminished. All in all, the person in front of him wasn't the least bit scary. He looked and smelled like a homeless beggar.

"What do you want from me, Mr. Jane?" Patrick asked, disgust obvious in his voice.

"What, you too good now to greet your own father decently?" Jane senior taunted him.

"I don't have a father," Jane junior answered with the coldest voice anyone had ever heard from him.

"Hah, I made you who you are. Taught you everything, Paddy. And that's my thanks? An arrogant copper who denies his own father?" He spat on the ground at his son's feet. "You're a shame to the name of Jane, boy. You were a disappointment right from the start. Guess I should at least teach you some respect now," Alex proclaimed.

Patrick only laughed at him snidely. "I would love to see you try, old man. You are nothing but a drunk. Do you really think you'd stand a chance against me? Preposterous."

"At least I didn't kill my wife," Alex scoffed.

"Ah yes. That's true. You never married my mother," Patrick replied coldly.

To any normal bystander it would have looked like the CBI consultant was completely composed, but Teresa knew him well. She could see that he was barely holding it together and she was immensely proud of him for it. He managed to act like the epitome of restraint and control and she prayed with all her might that Alex Jane bought his act.

Obviously he did because his demeanor changed drastically at once. "Come on, Paddy. You can take a joke, can't you? I was just kidding. Why don't you introduce me to your acquaintances?" he almost truckled to his son.

"What do you want from me?" Patrick asked again, voice devoid of any emotion.

"I did teach you well after all. Look at you, all composed. Nice suit, too," he schmoozed his son. "I might be in a spot of trouble. Nothing serious. Just a streak of bad luck at the poker table. I owe a guy a bit of money. What do you say, Paddy? You can afford to give your old dad ten grand, can't you? For old times' sake? You owe me after all."

Patrick sent him a look full of loathing. "You've got to be kidding me. I don't owe you a thing. And I sure as hell won't pay for your booze and gambling ever again. I have nothing more to say to you. Leave me alone."

Alex cast his son a spiteful glance. "Bet that cop lady doesn't know about half the felonies you've committed over the years. You would be out of her good graces at once, Pat. But she doesn't need to find out of course…"

Patrick answered him with a sneer. "Oh, are we already down to blackmail now?" And with his face turned into a stony mask he added with total indifference. "You know what, Alex Jane? You sound like a useless loser. Gamblers and drunks are marks. Nothing but marks. I don't have any business with marks. If you would excuse us, we have better things to do than to stand here with a pathetic loser like you. Go bug someone else. I'm finished with you."

His tone had caused goosebumps to appear on everybody. He had sounded so cold and derisive Teresa decided then and there that she never wanted to hear that specific voice ever again. It had scared the hell out of her.

He turned around towards his companions and they could all see that he wasn't even half as collected as he had appeared to be in front of his father, who still stood there, first shocked into silence and then spouting off threats and expletives. When no one paid attention, he finally turned and left.

* * *

**TBC**

**I hope, you're all still enjoying this fic. If you do, please let me know. If you don't, I'd also like to know the reasons why. With other words: Reviews are very welcome.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: A bit angsty.**

* * *

Teresa was by Patrick's side immediately. She asked Ben, "Is there a place more private we can go to for a while?"

"My trailer is close by. Come on," he replied.

Andy interfered. "No offense mate, but your wife and child are there as well. Not good right now. Come on, folks. My parents are still working and their home's empty right now. I have the key and they won't mind. It's just over there."

He put a hand on his best friend's shoulder and steered him in the right direction. With a pointed look at Ben he said. "Why don't you go and see how your family is doing? Maybe you, Sheila, would like to accompany him?"

His wife understood his hint of course. No sense crowding the poor man right now. "I'd love to spend some time with Evan and Kathryn. See you later."

* * *

Andy practically shoved his friend into his parents' trailer. Patrick seemed nearly paralyzed. He stumbled inside and made a beeline for the couch. Teresa followed and sat beside him, taking hold of his hand.

"I'm making tea," Andy said and went to the kitchen area in the back of the trailer.

Patrick started to shake like a leaf, coming down from his adrenaline high. Lisbon put a comforting arm around his waist and it appeared as if her lover just now became aware of her presence. Suddenly he kissed her fiercely, almost brutally. He shoved her down on the couch forcefully keeping her restrained with his greater weight and began to unbutton her jeans with impatience.

"No, Patrick. Stop! Not like this," she begged him.

Andy asked from the kitchen if everything was alright. Teresa wanted to try and get to Patrick on her own, no need to involve someone else in this, and shouted "Yes" to reply.

Jane didn't seem to take notice of any of her protests or Andy's presence but fumbled with his own buttons.

"Please, Patrick. Stop it. You're hurting and scaring me right now," she said emphatically.

That finally got his attention. He sat up and stared at her, eyes wide open in obvious shock. "What happened? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I need you, Teresa. Please."

"Yes, but not like this, Patrick. Do you know where we are?" she asked, straightening out her clothes.

He cast a bewildered look around. "I'm not sure. Feels a bit like Andy's old place," he stated.

"Not too far off. It's his parents' trailer. We're not alone. Andy's in the back making tea, okay? Can you pull yourself together now?"

His expression turned very sad. "Oh, Teresa, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. God, can you forgive me? I nearly forced myself on you. I'm… I don't know what to say."

"It wouldn't have come to that. You stopped, okay? And even if you hadn't, I'm a cop, remember? I would have been able to defend myself. No harm done. Don't worry. I understand your need for that kind of release, but it's neither the time nor the place right now."

She stroked his cheek gently and leaned in for a very tender kiss. "And there isn't anything to forgive," she whispered against his lips. "In fact, I'm incredibly proud of you. I'm amazed how well you handled your father."

"Yeah, mate. She's absolutely right. You beat him at his own game. That'll teach him. Man, it was nearly scary," Andy agreed. He'd just appeared with a pot and three cups. "Milk, no sugar?"

Patrick nodded. Suddenly he started to laugh hysterically. "He's a worthless, spineless creep. God, I was afraid of a laughing stock like that? A freaking sucker like that?" he pressed out between his laughs, which turned more and more into sobs. Teresa pulled him into a strong embrace.

"All lies," he gasped out. "They were all lies."

"Yes," she whispered.

"I didn't kill her."

"No, you didn't."

"I'm not really evil."

"No, love. You are not evil."

"All lies. It's all been lies. He lied to me."

"Yes, Patrick. He did. Because he is a vile little creep."

"I'm not stupid."

"No, love. Far from it."

"I… I am wor… I am… I am worthy."

"Yes, Patrick. You are worthy," she said with ultimate conviction and kissed him deeply despite his face being drowned in tears. "And I'm so, so glad to hear you say that. I love you, Patrick Jane."

She held his face gently between her hands, cupping his cheeks, and looked him straight in the eyes the whole time she spoke. Slowly, a guarded little smile made the corners of his mouth lift and the glint of a sparkle appeared in his teary eyes. She hadn't seen a more beautiful sight before, she was sure.

Andy, who'd left them for a moment, came back carrying a wet washcloth, which he handed over to his friend. Patrick thanked him looking a bit embarrassed and cleaned and cooled his face. His old friend took a seat on his other side, so he was sandwiched between Teresa and Andy. Both had an arm around his back.

"Mate, I would never be friends with you if you weren't a good person. I've known you since we were ten. I love you like a brother. Well, a very dwarfish and curly brother, but man, you never know with these genes," the large man said.

"At least I was spared your nose, mate," Patrick teased him back, his good humor returning.

"Maybe, but you know what they say about men with big noses…" Andy replied.

Patrick chuckled. "Well, I haven't gotten any complaints so far. But you can ask Teresa for her professional opinion on the matter. Or, we two could just go and take a leak together, compare notes."

"Hello, boys. There's a lady in the room with you. Stop your primitive male-talk and drink your tea like civilized people," Lisbon chipped in.

They both snickered like children.

"Lisbon has seen a lady. Do you see the lady, Andy? I haven't seen one in here at all," Patrick joked.

"Nah, ain't no lady in here, my friend. I would have noticed, I'm sure," Andy agreed.

"I won't even dignify this with a comment," Teresa answered snootily but couldn't help her smile. "You two have the combined maturity of one teenager."

They sat a moment in silence and enjoyed their tea.

"Andy?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, man?" Andy answered.

"Love you too, bro," Patrick stated, and they both gave each other very manly signs of affection in the form of rather hard pats on the back. Teresa laughed heartily at their antics.

"Are we ready to go back to the others again? I really want to try a few of the rides before we have to leave," she inquired.

"Alright with me, but if you could excuse me for a moment, I would really like to freshen up a bit before we join the rest," Jane explained.

* * *

A while later he reappeared with all traces of tears and anguish gone from his face and they made their way back outside.

After retrieving the rest of their party, they enjoyed what was left of the afternoon, trying out just about every ride available. As before, they never had to actually pay and were slipped past the waiting crowd each time. Teresa decided that there were distinct advantages to being friends with carnies while at a carnival. Even the cop-slights were mostly good-natured and she took them in stride.

She saw that her lover, though he was not overly fond of a lot of the aspects connected to this lifestyle anymore, still seemed to be in his element here. He was all smiles and charms and appeared to be quite relaxed. A big part of it was faked though, of that she was sure. He wasn't really open, rather carefully guarded. It made her happy to know that she could actually read him well enough to recognize it. Furthermore, she was glad he didn't seem to feel the same necessity to hide behind a mask when he was around her these days.

By the time they were ready to leave, it was was half past six and already getting dark. Jane and Lisbon took their farewells from both Andy and Sheila, who would stay a while longer to have dinner with his parents and Ben and his family.

* * *

On their way out, they made a stop at the public toilets because Teresa needed to use the facilities. Patrick waited for her. She was just about to leave the portaloo, when she heard a yell from just outside, which she unfortunately was all too familiar with: it was unmistakably Jane's voice shouting "Lisbon!" in obvious panic.

She rushed out and had to watch helplessly, when a dark figure lunged at her lover with a knife. Fortunately, Patrick's reaction time was quick enough to avoid a direct hit to his abdomen, where the attacker had obviously aimed. Before anything else could happen, Teresa tackled the offender to the ground and had him in a brutal hold.

"Jane, my purse. Get me the handcuffs," she ordered.

Her lover just stood before her in petrified shock.

"Jane. Damn it! Get a grip. I need your help," she said in her most commanding voice, which, as usual, had the desired effect on her consultant.

He moved to retrieve her purse, which had fallen down during her tackling. He opened it and handed her the cuffs. Not too soon either because the attacker offered vehement resistance and Teresa had a hard time restraining him with a knee to his back. When she had secured him, she got up and turned him around. To her complete horror, she was faced with Alex Jane.

* * *

**TBC**

**I hope, I managed to surprise you a little with the latest development... If you want to give me a pleasant surprise, writing a review would definitely be the way to go...  
**


	7. Chapter 7

She got up and told Jane senior to do the same. She got her purse from Patrick and retrieved her service weapon from it aiming it at the vile man before her.

"Let a girl do your dirty work now, Paddy? How pathetic," the older Jane taunted his son and cackled.

"Alex Jane, you are under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon. Anything you say from this point on can and will be used against you. So shut up if you know what's good for you," Lisbon told him with cold anger in her voice.

But Alex obviously didn't know what was good for him as he continued to slight his son. "Told you I would get you for your disrespect. You should have just given me what is my due. Well, you always needed a hard hand. Now tell that little pet cop of yours to quit this ridiculous farce."

"Patrick, call SacPD," Lisbon ordered, but he still seemed to be in a state of shock, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Damn it," she mumbled. "Mr. Jane, get down on your knees," she ordered Alex, but the man just laughed into her face. "This is not a joke," she added sternly, aiming her Glock pointedly at him. "Get down on your knees or I'll make you do it. Your choice."

A small crowd had gathered around them and a few screams of terror had been audible, when Lisbon had pulled her weapon. This at least led to them holding a distance, but nobody seemed inclined to help either.

Reluctantly the older Jane followed her orders. When Lisbon was sure that the man wouldn't be able to get away without problems, she took her cell phone and called SacPD on their direct line. "This is Agent Lisbon, CBI. I'm currently at the Sacramento fair ground. I've just arrested a man who attacked CBI consultant Patrick Jane with a knife. I need you to send a car and get him off my hands…. No, we're not working on a case… Yes, that sounds good. I expected you to have a squad car close by… We're situated in front of the portaloos… Thanks, Officer."

"Come on, cutie. It's time to call this off. This was just some family business. A misunderstanding. Paddy, tell her to stop this nonsense or you'll regret it!" Alex Jane demanded.

"Shut up, Mr. Jane. Attacking a member of Law Enforcement is a felony. And it was an armed one at that. I saw you aim for his abdomen. Making further threats isn't helping your case," Teresa told him sternly.

Around them, the crowd had grown. She spotted a few carnies but for the most part they were regular visitors. She ordered them to get lost but nearly everyone stayed. Fortunately at this point four uniformed cops appeared at the scene. Two of them chased off the gapers with some well aimed threats about prosecution and obstruction of justice. The other two came over to Teresa.

"Agent Lisbon?" one asked, and she nodded and showed them her badge. "I'm Officer Davis, SacPD, this is Officer Markie. What do we have?"

"Hello, Officers. White male offender, name Alex Jane. Attempted armed assault. Tried to stab my consultant in the abdomen with the knife over there." She pointed at the bladed weapon, which had been lying on the ground some feet away from her since she'd taken it from Patrick's father. "I don't have an evidence bag with me right now so I just left it there," she explained.

Officer Markie retrieved a bag from his pocket and went over to secure the knife, while Davis grabbed Jane senior's arm roughly and pulled him up on his feet. "Come with me, scumbag."

"Stop!" Alex demanded. "This is just a misunderstanding. He's my son."

"You can tell us all of that drivel at the station house. Now shut up and move," Davis ordered and pulled the resisting man away, helped along by Markie.

"You'll regret this, Pat, I swear! Just you wait and see. This isn't over!"

* * *

Now that the immediate danger was averted, Teresa had time to step over to her lover, who'd also been approached by the other two officers some time ago.

"Sir, are you alright? You don't look so well. Are you hurt?" one of them asked. "Name's Keen, by the way. My partner here is Burton. Are you with the CBI as well?"

Patrick looked blankly at them but collected himself after a moment. "I… I'm alright, I think. Jane, my name's Jane. And yes, I'm a consultant with the CBI."

One of the officers, Burton, gave him an encouraging pat on the arm, sensing that he was in a state of slight shock. Patrick cried out in obvious pain just as Teresa reached his side.

"Patrick, are you hurt? Did he actually hit you? I couldn't really see. I thought he'd missed," she asked with deep concern, taking a hold of his arm gently.

On closer inspection there was a large tear visible in the fabric of his suit jacket. Lisbon motioned for him to take it off, so she could take a better look at the damage. He complied, groaning when the sleeve made contact with the arm underneath. With the dark jacket out of the way, it became obvious that the knife had pierced him. The right sleeve of the formerly crisp white shirt Patrick wore was soaked with blood.

"Looks like a pretty ugly stab wound. Probably needs some stitches," Officer Keen announced. "There's an ambulance stationed by the entrance. We should get your partner there, Agent Lisbon. He seems to be in some kind of shock as well."

Teresa nodded. "Patrick? Look at me," she said kindly. When she caught his eyes, she continued. "You've been hurt but I'm taking you to the paramedics now. Everything will be fine, okay?"

"Okay," he answered warily, looking lost and scared.

At that point Teresa decided not to give a damn about being watched by SacPD officers and took hold of Patrick's left hand, intertwining their fingers. "Come on, I'm right here with you."

Keen and Burton cast her strange looks but didn't comment on the unusual behavior. They decided to follow because they still needed a statement from the victim and the witness.

* * *

A paramedic met them at the door of the ambulance. The man in his fifties introduced himself as Doctor Jenkins. He got the basic facts and took in the sight of the injured man and reacted immediately. "I'll take care of him. I hope I have all the equipment to deal with it here, but I'm quite sure. Come along, Mr. Jane. We'll have you fixed in no time." He pulled Patrick with him resolutely but in a gentle way, and Lisbon felt reassured that her lover was indeed in capable hands.

Officer Keen addressed her when both the doctor and Jane had disappeared from sight. "Now, Agent Lisbon, while we wait, can you give us some details about the assault?"

"I was using the facilities when I heard Patrick Jane, my consultant, shout my name. I had been about to leave anyway, so I rushed out and saw a man with a knife attacking Jane, who jumped out of the way - well nearly – at the last moment. The stab had been clearly aimed at his abdomen. I tackled the attacker, secured him, and called SacPD." She stopped a moment to catch her breath.

"You should probably be made aware of the fact that the perp is actually my consultant's father. They met earlier today for the first time after over twenty years of total estrangement. By chance, I might add. The encounter didn't end very well and the offender threatened my colleague. But I never ever expected him to actually land a sneak attack at his son."

She paused again. With a very serious expression she continued, "And I want to add that it was completely unprovoked. Patrick didn't instigate any of this. He kept his cool during their earlier conversation. If need be, there are several additional witnesses to confirm this. Alex Jane was aggressive right from the start and tried to get to his son by force. He demanded money from him because he said he had gambling debts. My colleague refused to give him any, which led to an increase in hostility. But Patrick managed to defuse the situation, or so we thought."

"Thank you, Agent. Could you give me the names of the other witnesses, please?"

Teresa did so, realizing in the process, that she didn't know their surnames. "We'll have to wait for Patrick to fill in the blanks," she said, just as Andy came running towards them at full speed.

"Teresa, is it true? I just heard, the bastard's been arrested for attacking Rick. Is he alright?" He panted, out of breath from running.

"I think so. He has a stab wound on his arm. The paramedic's just taking a look at it. But it could have been much worse. Alex aimed for his stomach," she explained businesslike, feigning a calm she absolutely didn't feel.

Andy seemed to look through her act and pulled her into a hug. She was very thankful because it was just what she'd needed at that point. She was able to compose herself again and stepped back. "Officers, this happens to be one of the witnesses. He'll be able to give you the exact names of the others," she said. "It's about the earlier encounter with Alex," she clarified to Andy, who nodded.

At that moment, the door of the ambulance opened and the doctor stuck his head out. "Agent Lisbon? Would you come inside for a moment, please? My patient is asking for you. Urgently, I might add." The last part conveyed a bit of irritation. This caused Teresa to release a sigh of relief. If Jane was already annoying the paramedic, he was obviously recovering nicely.

* * *

She followed Jenkins inside. Patrick sat bare chested on the stretcher and started to complain the moment he caught sight of her. "Lisbon, that man wanted to cut my shirt into pieces. It's a good one. The best I own," he whined.

"Mr. Jane, as I explained before, it already has a big tear from the knife that stabbed your arm. I brought Agent Lisbon for you. Would you please cooperate now? You are losing blood. And it's completely unnecessary at this point," Doctor Jenkins tried to reason with him.

"Doctor, would you give me a minute alone with him? I promise you, he'll be well-behaved afterwards," Teresa asked.

The doctor smiled at her. "Anything it takes, Agent. Anything it takes…" he conceded. "Good luck…" He stepped into the back of the car to give them some privacy.

"Patrick, what the hell are you doing? He's only trying to help you. You have a four inches long slash on your arm, which needs to be seen to. I know you hate doctors. But please, don't make this difficult," she pleaded.

He pointedly avoided looking at her by staring at his lap. She wouldn't allow that. Stepping closer so she was standing between his dangling legs, she cupped his cheeks and forced him to look up at her. "I'm worried about you, love. Please let the doctor help you. I'll stay if that makes it any easier, okay?" she asked gently, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.

"He said I was disoriented, Teresa. Please don't let him take me to a psychiatric ward. I promise I'll be good," he begged her, looking defeated.

"Patrick, nobody wants to take you anywhere. You are in a slight state of shock. That's normal after such an attack. The doctor only assessed your medical status. Don't worry, love. I'll be here the whole time and the only place you'll be going is home with me. Okay? Can we get you fixed now?" she inquired carefully.

He nodded with a small hopeful smile. "Home? We'll go home afterwards?"

"Yes, imp. Home." She pecked him on the lips and let go of his face before she called out to Jenkins. "Doctor?"

The man came back into view. "Ready to proceed, Mr. Jane?" he asked.

Patrick had calmed down immensely. He trusted his lover and felt reassured that he wouldn't end up at a place he didn't want to be at. So he nodded in Jenkin's direction. "I'd like to apologize, Doctor. I might have misread the situation, which made me overreact. I hope you took no offense."

The paramedic smiled at him. "No problem. You're in quite a state right now. Some irrational behavior is to be expected."

"Thank you for your understanding. Actually, it would help greatly and we would avoid further misconceptions if my colleague was allowed to stay. Would that be alright?" Jane inquired.

The other man laughed. Starting to clean the wound and preparing his instruments, he spoke with amusement. "You are a sneaky one, aren't you, Mr. Jane? Got me right where you wanted me. I'd say your status has just improved from disoriented to astute. But no problem, your girlfriend can stay."

"He's a perceptive one, Lisbon. I think I could actually like him." Patrick grinned in Teresa's direction.

She had taken a hold of his left hand. No sense containing themselves considering the good doctor had seen through their act anyway. "How deep is it, Doctor?" she asked.

"Fortunately not too deep. I'll actually be able to glue and tape it instead of stitching it. It might take a little longer to heal that way, but it won't leave such a visible scar. Is that acceptable, Mr. Jane?" he inquired.

"Sounds good to me. Anything to avoid a needle piercing my skin repeatedly. How long until I'll be able to use my arm and hand again?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, you can use your hand immediately after we're finished here. I'd avoid it at least until tomorrow to give it a rest, and it will hurt like a bitch at first, but there's no medical reason not to use both your hand and arm. But you have to keep it dry. That's very important. And I'm afraid, you'll have to see a doctor daily for the next five days to change the dressing and check the wound. Since I'll glue it, the possibility for infection is higher than with normal stitches," Jenkins explained. "Do you want me to numb your forearm before I continue? The gluing will be quite painful but I gathered that you're not too keen on needles."

"No injections necessary. Just give me a moment to collect myself, Doc," he answered. He closed his eyes and took some very deep breaths, slowing down his heartbeat and slipping into a meditative state. Two minutes later he announced that he was ready for the procedure. He kept his eyes closed and seemed to be far away.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N: I have no real medical knowledge apart from some research, so I can only hope my descriptions aren't completely absurd. In case the treatment seems a bit off, I claim poetic license and pray that all you health professionals out there can forgive me my incompetence...  
**

* * *

**I haven't gotten many reviews on this fic lately and as I'm a bit unsure about writing "action" instead of private moments between Jane and Lisbon, I'm actually even more interested in your opinions. So feel free and encouraged to drop me a line.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Jenkins raised his eyebrows in a look of astonishment, shrugged and started. His patient didn't even flinch once during the whole process. He was impressed at the level of mental control he witnessed. He worked as fast and precisely as possible and wrapped the arm in gauze bandages afterwards. When he finished, Jane opened his eyes. "Got some pain medication for me, Doc? This is going to hurt like hell the second I'm not channeling the pain anymore. And unfortunately, I can't do that forever," he explained.

The doctor hurried to get a strong pain killer for his patient with a glass of water and Jane swallowed the offered pill greedily.

"You are a remarkable man, Mr. Jane," Jenkins said with some awe. "I've heard and read about the possibility of this but I've never seen it executed so flawlessly. How do you do it?"

Patrick, glad for the distraction from the oncoming pain, started to explain. "I redirect the body's neurological pain transmitters away from the brain, where the actual sensation of pain is created, and channel it out of my body through one of my extremities. In this case, I used Agent Lisbon's hand holding mine as a focal point. Physical contact usually helps me to focus on the exit area. Alas, this is a rather mentally exhausting technique when you practice it on yourself, so no long-term solution. And for the record," his face was contorted with pain by now, "this stings something fiercely."

"I'm sorry. The painkiller is fast acting, so you should feel better soon. And I'm really impressed. Say, have you ever considered working in palliative care? If I understand you correctly, you can actually help others channel pain even better?" the doctor inquired.

Patrick sighed with relief, his features smoothed. "Ah, the wonders of modern pharmacy. That was really fast. Thanks, Doc," he said. "And to answer your question. I've done that a few times during cases we've worked on. At one instance for example it turned out that one of the doctors in a clinic cheated with the patients' pain medications so she could satisfy her own addiction with the conserved morphine. She did so mostly with patients freshly out of surgery, so they were in a lot of unnecessary pain. Some of them even screaming. I managed to help a few. But it's rather difficult when the pain has already reached a certain level." He had a far away look on his face remembering the situation. "And to be honest: I do like helping people, I really do. But I'm not sure I could do something like this on a regular basis. I'm not cut out for it, I'm afraid."

Jenkins squeezed Jane's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "There's no shame in that, Mr. Jane. It's actually a good thing to recognize one's limits. A lot of people in medical care exploit themselves because they sympathize too much with their patients. I've seen quite a few doctors and nurses burn out like that. But it's still a neat ability you have there." Giving his patient's shoulder a light pat, he stepped back and continued. "You're ready to go now. Why don't we just cut off the sleeve of you shirt, so you can actually wear it again? It'll be a bit chilly with just your jacket otherwise. Or are you still adamant, you want to save it?"

Patrick wore a slightly sheepish expression when he answered. "Sorry I caused such a scene. I guess I was a bit out of it. Cut away, Doc."

* * *

Just then, a knock on the door of the ambulance was audible. The muffled voice of one of the officers could be heard. "Will it take much longer? We need a statement from Mr. Jane and we can't wait forever."

Jenkins shouted back. "My patient is in no condition to make any statement tonight. I advise you to talk to him tomorrow. What he needs now is to go home and rest."

Lisbon who'd just stood and watched the whole time during her lover's treatment offering silent support and holding his hand, decided to take action now. She searched for his eyes and when their gazes met she asked. "Patrick, will you be alright for a moment? I need to speak to the SacPD officers. Clear things up with them. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jane nodded. "No problem, my dear. I'll be fine. But I would really appreciate it if I didn't have to talk to those officers today. I know they always want the facts as fresh as possible, but I assure you I'll remember all the details just as vividly tomorrow."

She pecked his lips and said, "I don't doubt that for a second, Patrick. But they," she made a motion with her head in the direction of the door, "don't know about your extraordinary memory. I'll try to convince them though. You've been through a lot, and Doctor Jenkins as your physician has already made it clear where he stands on the subject. I'm sure I can work something out with Officers Keen and Burton."

* * *

She left the ambulance and went to speak with the local cops.

"My consultant won't be able to make his statement today. Sorry, Officers, but he's in a lot of pain and was given some heavy painkillers. It would be irresponsible to put him through a questioning in his state. I hope you understand," she explained.

"Can't say I'm too happy about this, Agent. We both know that it's important to recount such events with the facts as fresh in mind as possible," Burton said.

Lisbon cast him an annoyed look. "Yes, of course. But as I just explained, he is under the influence of drugs right now. That's hardly the ideal condition to recall exact facts. Furthermore, my consultant has extraordinary mental abilities. His memory is astonishing. That's one of the reasons we keep him around. He'll be able to recollect the events in detail tomorrow, I assure you."

"Very well, Agent Lisbon. We can send someone over to the CBI to question him tomorrow. That might be more convenient for your colleague, considering he was injured," Keen offered.

"That's a very nice offer, Officer. I appreciate it and I'm sure Mr. Jane will as well. I'm sorry we kept you waiting but there were some medical details that needed my attention," Teresa said.

"No problem. We took the statement from Mr. Timmons here in the meantime. Unsurprisingly, he confirmed your recollections of the events this afternoon. I don't think we'll need to interview the other witnesses, but we've got all the names and numbers we need. Have a nice evening, Agent. And give our best wishes to your partner," Officer Burton concluded politely.

* * *

Both cops walked off. It was just now Lisbon realized that Andy was still present, albeit slightly hidden in the shadows. He stepped forward. "How's Rick? The truth, please, Teresa."

"He's okay, Andy. He has a nasty slash but the doctor managed to fix it without stitches. Patrick was a bit out of it and wasn't cooperating at first. But he's back to his old, annoying self now. He should be out any minute," she explained with a warm smile.

As if on cue, Jane opened the door of the ambulance and stepped outside. He wore his shirt and jacket, but kept his right, bare but bandaged arm cradled to his chest. "Oh, hi Andy. What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise. "Shouldn't you be eating dinner with your folks?"

"Rick! Good to see you up and about, bro." The large man came over and examined his friend critically. "You know how it is. News travels fast at a carnival. I heard about what happened and wanted to make sure you're not severely injured. I'm really sorry, man. I didn't expect him to stoop so low. He'll get his due now."

"I would rather not talk about this now, Andy. Sorry I kept you from your family. I know you don't see them very often," Patrick said.

"Oh shut up, Rick. You're family too, and my parents insisted I should go and find out what happened to you. I'm glad you're doing alright. We'll talk later. I'll call you tomorrow, okay mate?" he inquired.

"Sure. Give my regards to your parents. Thanks for your concern. I'm fine, but I'd really like to go home now," Jane answered tiredly.

His friend nodded and wished them goodbye. Just before he left, he held out the plush elephant to Lisbon. "Ah, I nearly forgot: you left that at my parents'."

Teresa took the toy and thanked him. Afterwards she went over to her lover, put her arm around his waist, and steered him in the direction of the car. "Guess, I'll be the driver after all. But debts of bets are debts of honor. You have a rain check for a drive some other time, love," she said tenderly.

* * *

She opened the car door and helped him in before she got into the driver's seat and started her SUV. Patrick fell into an exhausted sleep mere minutes later and Teresa drove them home in deep contemplation.

She was very troubled by what had happened, especially because she couldn't even envisage what a barrage of ramifications the events would entail. This would most probably go to court, and she wasn't sure Patrick was up to the consequences. Would he be able to face his father in a lawsuit? Testify against him? Would other questions about his relationship with Alex come up in the process? That was very likely. How would that affect Patrick? Was he ready to confront his childhood traumas in a semi-public setting? She had her doubts. It had been only two days since he'd started to open up about it, and that had been forced as well.

She cast a worried sideways glance at her sleeping lover. This was turning into a complete disaster. Maybe she could use her influence and call in some favors at the DA's office and try to cut Jane senior a deal? Would the bastard even accept a deal, or would he prefer to humiliate his son in public? She was afraid, that the last option was the more likely scenario. She decided, she had to talk this through with someone, but in this case, unfortunately, that someone couldn't be her best friend.

Should she talk with Andy? It was an option, but the man didn't know the least bit about law enforcement and juridical procedures. She opted to think this through more carefully before acting. Her first priority was to get Patrick home, preferably into bed and comfortable as fast as possible. How much more stress could the man take before he lost it? The last days had been a a great strain already. It was obvious that during the last 48 hours his control had worn thin several times. He'd probably cried more in the space of mere days than he'd done since his early childhood. With everything that had happened his armor had received multiple cracks.

Given a little time she was sure he'd be able to re-fortify his control. He was a very strong individual after all. But at the moment, the blows were coming a bit too frequently for her taste. Everybody had a breaking point. And how vulnerable he felt right now had become glaringly obvious to her in that ambulance, when his deep seated fear of being compulsorily hospitalized had surfaced. She would do everything in her power to prevent this from happening. Fortunately, she was now in a good position to actually help and comfort him. Should he reach his limits, he wouldn't be alone this time around.

* * *

She woke him gently when they'd arrived at her apartment complex. He got out of the car wordlessly and went ahead to her entrance door. Fumbling clumsily, he tried to find his keys in the pocket of his suit jacket, but she'd caught up with him at that point and said, "Here, let me, love."

Still not uttering a word, he went inside, up the stairs, and disappeared in her bedroom.

She sighed but decided to give him some space. She went to the kitchen to prepare a sandwich for herself. It was nearing ten pm and she was a little hungry. After she'd eaten, she made a cup of chamomile tea for Patrick. Beverage in hand, she made her way upstairs to check in on him. He was lying on the bed, still fully clothed, sans shoes. At first glance he appeared to be asleep, but he opened his eyes when she approached.

"How are you doing, Patrick?" she asked carefully.

"I'm fine," was his rather unconvincing reply. "Thanks for the tea."

He propped himself up a bit, an action that seemed to cause him quite some pain judging from his expression, but he didn't complain. Teresa took that as a bad sign. Normally, he was prone to whine about even the slightest pain and milk the situation for all it was worth. Obviously, this didn't hold true when he was really injured and hurting. How very typical, she thought.

She handed him the cup and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to help you with your clothes? I guess it's a bit difficult to undress with one arm out of commission," she inquired.

"Nah. Yes. Maybe. The buttons are a bit of a challenge. But it's alright. I'll manage somehow," he replied in a rather non-committal way.

She chuckled. "Come on, imp. No need to strain yourself. I'm perfectly willing to undress you. I'd prefer it to be under different circumstances, but I'll take what I can get."

She leaned closer and started to unbutton his shirt without waiting for further response. She was happy to spot a glint of amusement in his eyes.

She stroked his newly exposed chest gently, comforting him. "How are you really doing, Patrick? We don't need to talk about what happened, but I'd like to know how you are doing. You know you're not alone anymore, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. And I appreciate your concern, Teresa, but I honestly don't know what to answer. Right now, I feel kind of numb. It got to be a bit much earlier, so I have just blocked my emotions for the time being. I need some time to work through this. I'll deal with it, love. Don't worry. I've got it under control," he answered calmly.

She shook her head in honest astonishment. "You can just block your emotions? I'm not sure it sounds very healthy, but I'm impressed. I think I'm only slowly realizing just how distinct your mental abilities really are. I already knew part of it, but I have to admit I underestimated your control. Take that display in the ambulance for instance. That was absolutely amazing, Patrick."

"Oh, it's just a matter of training, Teresa. Anyone could do it. Pain exists only in our minds after all. Thank you for the compliment anyway."

* * *

He sat down the empty cup and motioned for Lisbon to help him out of the shirt and his pants. He redressed in his usual sleeping attire consisting of shorts and a t-shirt and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Teresa decided to stay and wait for his return and make sure he was comfortable. When he was safely in bed, all tucked in, she left to start her own evening routine.

Fifteen minutes later she came back in. His breathing had evened out and she was pretty sure, he was asleep. She put his pain medications and a glass of water on his nightstand so they were in easy reach for him.

Her gaze landed on the golden ring resting there. She couldn't resist to take and inspect the symbol of her lover's deep loyalty and commitment. There was an inscription on the inside of it. Before she could take a closer look, Patrick mumbled from the bed. "With love. Forever, Angela."

She winced violently.

"Sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to startle you like that," he croaked with a tired voice. "It's just rather dark in here. You would've had a hard time deciphering it."

"Geez! You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought, you were sleeping," she scolded him "I hope it was alright for me to look at it," she added carefully.

"Yes, no problem. No need to sneak a peek. You could've just asked, you know," he teased. "Come to bed, now, please. I'm really tired."

She returned the ring to its spot on the nightstand and bent down to press a gentle kiss to Patrick's cheek. "Good night, Patrick. Sleep well. I love you," she whispered in his ear before moving away.

"Love you too, Teresa," he mumbled drowsily.

She walked around the bed to her side and got under the comforter. Despite her mind being full of worry and unanswered questions, she fell asleep only minutes later.

* * *

**TBC**

**And thus ends their first Sunday as a couple... **

**How will their first day back at work turn out? You'll just have to wait and see... or you could send me your guesses and I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong.**

* * *

**This Saturday I was at a symposium on brain research and I was very impressed with the latest insights into the workings of the mind. And I must compliment the makers of 'The Mentalist' on their accuracy when it comes to describing Jane's abilities. **

**By the way, you should ALL be proud of your brains, folks. The mind really IS a powerful tool and we're all incredibly complex beings. Never forget that.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

Teresa woke on Monday morning at 6:30, her usual time on a work day. The bed beside her was empty, which wasn't entirely unexpected. She got up to avoid falling asleep again. She had to get to work after all. Opening the bedroom door, she could hear some sounds from the lower level, indicating that Patrick was still in her apartment at least. She went to the bathroom and took her usual morning shower, fixed her hair and dressed. She made her way downstairs forty minutes later, where she found her consultant fully dressed in one of his three-piece-suits sitting on the couch with his obligatory cup of tea reading the paper.

"Morning, Lisbon." He greeted her warmly. "Did you sleep well?" He looked up from his reading.

"You look like crap, Patrick," she said alarmed. He was pale and the bags under his bloodshot eyes were especially prominent today. All in all he looked sick and tired.

"Gee, thanks. YOU look lovely, my dear. Your breakfast is on the kitchen counter. You should hurry up a bit, or Van Pelt might make it to the office before you for once. Imagine the horror," he teased her.

"You won't be going to work today," she decided.

"Nonsense, Lisbon. Where else would I go? Work'll be a good distraction and I can just as well snooze a bit on my couch there. I have absolutely no intention to sit around here alone moping. I'd like to hitch a ride though, if that's alright with you," he answered.

"Yes, of course. I still don't like it though," she huffed, but made her way to the kitchen, where she found french toast and coffee waiting for her. How he'd done that handicapped as he was, she didn't know. The lingering smell of chocolate told her he'd obviously even managed to finish the truffles for Grace somehow. She rolled her eyes. She hoped he'd at least gotten a few hours of sleep.

The breakfast was devoured quickly and she drank two cups of coffee before she returned to the living room ten minutes later. "I'm ready to go now," she announced.

"Eating that fast isn't healthy, Teresa. There was no need to gorge on your food like that," he scolded her lightly.

"Don't you tell me anything about being healthy, Jane. Pot, kettle, black is all I'm saying. Come on now. We need to leave if we want to beat Grace."

He chuckled.

She grabbed her briefcase and jacket and opened the door. Patrick followed her out. They drove to the CBI HQ in silence.

* * *

They entered the building and the lift together still keeping their comfortable silence. But when he reached out to press the button for their floor with his left hand, Teresa realized that he wore his wedding band. She felt a sudden sting of jealousy and looked pointedly from his ring finger to his eyes.

Fortunately they were alone in the lift with the doors closed, so she didn't mind the peck on the lips she got from him. "Teresa, please. Don't be jealous. I just put it on, so people wouldn't get suspicious. It would be rather obvious that something has changed drastically, if I came to work all of a sudden without it. I'm actually doing this for your sake. You don't want people to find out about us after all," he explained gently.

Seeing her lingering unease and need to clear the matter up, he pushed the button that would halt the lift temporarily without alarming the whole building. Most of the time the old elevator was a subject of constant irritation to the people working at the place, but sometimes there were certain advantages to good old engineering.

She cast him a thankful look. "You're right. That was stupid of me. And I really don't want to be jealous. Sorry. I mean, how low is that? She's, I mean, she's gone and I'm still jealous, and, and I have you, while she can't." Teresa lowered her head shamefully. "Sorry, it sounds even worse, when I say it out loud. God, I'm really ashamed. Sorry, Patrick," she said sheepishly.

"Nah, you're just a bit insecure. I understand that. But you're the one who claims I have that overly big heart. So why don't you trust me that there's enough room in it for the both of you? My feelings for you are just as real and run just as deep," he reassured her.

Teresa was really touched and calmed by his words. So she pressed the button that restarted the elevator with a small smile on her lips. "Thank you, Patrick. That was really sweet. Sorry, I know: one of the forbidden words…" She cupped his cheek gently, stroking it for a moment.

She'd just stopped, when they reached the right floor and the lift doors opened. They entered the bullpen together. While she proceeded to her office, he made a beeline for his couch.

* * *

One after the other, the rest of the team arrived as well.

It turned out to be a slow going day with no new case. Jane just lay on his couch, his eyes closed almost all the time, hardly uttering a single word. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt exchanged quite a few worried glances. The unusual behavior of their consultant giving them reason for concern. They just hoped, he wasn't up to any mischief or planning a major con.

Their disquiet was even more enhanced when a SacPD officer entered the bullpen at around eleven asking for Jane.

"What did he do this time?" Rigsby mumbled.

Patrick got up from his resting place and went over to the cop, greeting the man politely. "Ah, Officer Keen. Good morning. Thanks for coming by. If you would follow me to our conference room?"

They left together.

"This can't be anything good," Rigsby said with worry in his voice. "Should we inform the boss?"

"I think, we should," Van Pelt answered. "Jane obviously expected that cop to come by. That isn't exactly reassuring."

"I'll go talk to to her," Cho offered and left to do so immediately.

* * *

He knocked on Lisbon's office door. "Come in," Teresa called. She looked up from her work. "Ah, Cho, morning. What can I do for you?"

"A cop from SacPD is talking to Jane. Thought you should know, boss," Cho explained in his usual laconic way.

"Ah yes. That was to be expected. Thank you for informing me," she answered, already turning her attention back to her work.

"Boss? Why would a uniform need to talk to Jane? Shouldn't we be worried?" Cho inquired, slightly unsettled by Lisbon's obvious disregard of the peculiar situation. "He was behaving strangely all morning. Hardly said a word. And frankly, he looks like shit."

Lisbon motioned for her second in command to take a seat in front of her desk. Some explanation was needed. Cho sat down and looked at her intently.

"Jane was involved in some kind of altercation yesterday. A man with a knife attacked him. Fortunately, he got out of the way in time and only received an ugly slash on his arm instead of a stab to the stomach. SacPD is handling the case," she clarified.

"Jane provoked someone into stabbing him?" Cho raised his eyebrows.

She shook her head. "No, actually, it was completely unprovoked. The man sneak attacked him."

"You were with him at the time," Cho concluded.

She nodded.

"Is he alright?"

"As alright as can be, I guess," Lisbon replied.

"He's living with you, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. He needed a place to stay. I offered him my guest room two weeks ago," she explained.

"I understand. I'm happy for you," Cho stated, getting up, turning to leave.

"Cho?"

"Yes, boss?" he replied, facing her again.

"How…?" she asked, her eyes wide and questioning.

"The way you talk about him. Something's changed since Friday," he stated.

"Is it that obvious? Damn!" she grumbled. "Don't tell the others, please."

Cho examined her with serious eyes. "No, I just know you well. I won't tell anyone." As an afterthought he added carefully, "Don't let him hurt you, Teresa."

She smiled and shook her head. "He won't hurt me, Kimball. Thanks for your concern."

Cho nodded and left.

"Ah, Cho?" she called out after him.

He took a step back inside her office.

"Could you please let me know when that SacPD officer is finished with Jane? I would like to have a word with him before he leaves," Lisbon requested. "Or even better, just send him to me."

"Sure thing, boss."

* * *

About twenty minutes later, another knock disrupted her concentration. "Come in," she called.

"Officer Keen, welcome to the CBI. Thanks for coming. Could I please have a word with you? Come on in, take a seat." She motioned him through the door. "Do you want something to drink?" Lisbon asked.

The cop took a seat in front of her but declined her other offer. "Mr. Jane already supplied me with both coffee and water. What can I do for you, Agent Lisbon?"

"I just wanted to know where the case is going. Well, as much as you are at liberty to share of course," she explained.

"Actually, there isn't that much to say. Alexander Jane has been in front of a custodial judge already this morning. He'll be kept in pre-trial custody without bail. The judge deemed him a flight risk. The DA is going to press charges for attempted felony mayhem." He paused to let the information sink in. "And your consultant is really something else. You weren't lying when you said he has an extraordinary memory. He could recall the conversation with his father word for word. And the rest of his recount was incredibly detailed as well. A perfect witness, that man. A pity his father is such a nasty piece of work."

Teresa couldn't agree more with the last statement. "Thank you for the information. You have been very obliging, Officer. I appreciate that."

"Oh, I understand. Jane's been your partner for years, from what I've gathered. It's normal to care. I'm glad I could help. But if I may ask: what's the guy doing at work today? He doesn't look too well," Keen asked while getting up.

"He's as stubborn as a mule. Insisted on coming to work. Believe me, I tried…" she explained, exasperation clearly visible. "Thanks for your time. I'll see you out."

They left her office together and she accompanied him to the lift. "Have a nice day, Officer Keen," she said in parting.

"I'll keep you informed if anything major should come up, Agent Lisbon," the cop offered just before the lift doors closed.

* * *

Lisbon went back to the bullpen and halted a foot from the couch. "Jane? My office. Now," she demanded.

The consultant opened his eyes, raised his brows in question, and got up to follow her.

When they were inside her office, she closed the door and led him to the sofa, motioning for him to take a seat. She sat right beside him. "How are you holding up, Patrick? Was the interview with Keen alright?" she inquired gently.

"I'm fine. Stop worrying. And my talk with Keen went well enough I suppose," he answered calmly.

"Did he tell you about the case's development?" she asked.

"No," he replied. Squinching up his face in irritation he continued, "And I didn't ask. I should have though. I guess I'm a bit off my game today. Did he tell you something?"

She nodded. "Yes. This is most certainly going to court, Patrick. The DA's actually going for attempted felony mayhem." She let that sink in a moment. Looking him straight in the eyes, she continued, "We are talking about serious prison time here. If they rate it as an attack on a member of law enforcement as well, we are looking at seven or eight years. If not, he might get off with five."

"Damn." Jane sighed heavily. "I'm not looking forward to this, Teresa. I don't know if I'm ready for any of this." He looked down at his lap. "What about a deal?"

She took his left hand between hers and drew circles on the back with her thumb. "I don't know, Patrick. I'll try to find out if there's a possibility for that. But are you sure Alex would be willing to accept a deal? He might prefer to drag you along into court."

"You are probably right. That would be his style. He might want me to go down with him. You know, I haven't always been the most law abiding citizen." He tried to sound hopeful when he continued, " But we should give it a try. Eight years in a cell is a long time for a roamer like him." He looked up at her, his distress shining from his eyes. "I… I don't know how to deal with this right now. Would it be alright for me to leave all these difficult decisions in your capable hands for the time being, Teresa?"

"Of course, Patrick. I'll take care of this. And of you, okay?" she assured him, one hand caressing his cheek for a short moment.

"Thanks. I really appreciate that, my dear. I know I can trust you to make the best decisions." He paused and collected himself. His expression lost a bit of the worry. "On another topic. Could it be possible that Cho knows about the changed status of our relstionship? He gave me the most peculiar look when I came out of my interview with Keen," Jane said.

She nodded. "The man seems to get nearly as perceptive as you these days, I swear. He called me out on it when he informed me of Keen's visit. I wouldn't be surprised if you received a 'friendly' threat from him soon. He is a bit protective of me."

Jane chuckled. "That he is, our dear Cho. I can handle him. No problem. I have no intention of harming you after all, so there's nothing to be afraid of." He paused and turned serious again. "And if I did indeed harm you, I'm sure I'd deserve whatever Kimball comes up with."

"I wouldn't allow him to hurt you too badly anyway, Jane," she answered fondly. "Now, how about getting some lunch? And for your information: I took the liberty and got you an appointment with CBI's Medical Officer at three o'clock today."

"Traitor," he whined. "Selling me out to a doctor like that. Honestly woman."

"I happen to like your arm and want to put it to good use in the future as well. Therefore I would hate for it to rot off, just because you can't be bothered to follow your doctor's instructions. Sometimes you really need a keeper, imp. I guess that's my job now." She cast an intent look through her office windows and when she deemed the coast clear, she pressed a sweet little kiss on his pouting lips. "Come on, Patrick. Lunch."

* * *

**TBC**

**Well, Cho figured it out. How long will it take for the rest of the team? **

**A/N: I'd like to take the chance and thank my beta 'firstdown' once again. She's doing a great job in my humble opinion. I hope, you agree. **

**As usual, I really like to hear from you. I promise, I'll answer all reviews (well not the ones from guests, for obvious reasons...) and you're also welcome to ask questions.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: Explicit sexual content in this chapter.**

* * *

They left her office together, engaged in their usual bickering. The rest of their team looked up from their work when they heard them approach.

"I still can't believe you made an appointment with a physician for me without asking. Why don't I make some kind of appointment for you as well? Maybe for the hair dressers?"

She cast him her famous death glare.

"Not that there's anything wrong with your hair, Lisbon, but just on principle? See how it makes you feel?" he insisted

"It's not my fault you have the maturity of a five year old, Jane. I do have my hair done, when it's necessary. You, on the other hand, wouldn't even see a doctor if your life depended on it. And yes, pun intended," she bantered back.

Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho felt obvious relief when they heard their teammates engaged in one of their typical exchanges. Cho couldn't help a small smile. They were really cute together. Jane looked a bit better at least, his private conversation with Teresa had visibly cheered him up. And though Cho planned to have a serious talk with the consultant soon, at the moment he was only worried about him. He'd looked awful this morning, and Cho had the distinct feeling that there was more to the story of his attack than Lisbon had revealed to him. He hadn't pried, accepting her judgment about what to divulge and when. But it had perturbed him.

Jane and Lisbon had stopped close to the team's desks. "We're off for lunch. Anyone want to join us?" Lisbon asked.

All three nodded eagerly. Without an open case to work on, they were all bored and a team lunch would be a welcome distraction. Grace was the first to get up. She practically stormed over to the consultant and gave him a spontaneous hug. "We heard about the attack. I'm so glad you're alright, Jane," she said warmly.

Patrick looked slightly thrown off his guard and cast a questioning look in Teresa's direction, while he patted Van Pelt's back awkwardly.

"Ah, yes. I told Cho that you have been attacked by a man bearing a knife yesterday and that SacPD is handling the case," Lisbon provided, making sure her lover was on the same page now. "And Grace? Get a grip, will you? Unhand our consultant so we can leave. He wasn't mortally wounded and I'm quite sure you're actually hurting his injured arm right now."

Grace released him immediately with an apologetic expression. "Oh no. Did I really hurt you, Jane? I'm so sorry. I'm just so relieved you're okay," the young woman said.

"I'm fine, Grasshopper. I managed to get my arm to safety on time. I'm touched by your concern. Ignore Lisbon. She's just grumpy because she needs to be fed," Jane assured the redhead.

That earned him a slap on the shoulder from Teresa. "Ow! Really now, woman? Assaulting an already injured man? How mean is that? And you accuse Grace of hurting me. Honestly, Lisbon," he whined.

"You are such a cry-baby, Jane," she teased.

"You just don't know your own strength, Lisbon."

"Ah, shut up, Jane. I'll even buy you an ice cream after lunch as consolation. But only if you eat all your greens," she said in a patronizing voice.

Everybody laughed at Jane's pouting face and spirits were high when they left HQ.

* * *

They all had an enjoyable time at lunch. And the rest of the working day went by mostly without further excitement.

Lisbon got an angry phone call from Director Bertram later in the afternoon, who'd been contacted by the DA's office. He promptly predicted a PR nightmare for the CBI, if news got out about their consultant being attacked with a knife by his own father, a carnie, while at a carnival. Lisbon used this to get his support for trying to convince the prosecution to cut a deal with Alex Jane. Bertram was a bit miffed, that the Senior Agent had been present at the crime scene as well and wanted a detailed explanation, but fortunately she could appease him with some half-truths.

She sighed with relief afterwards. That had gone better than expected. And to have Bertram on their side while negotiating with the DA was actually a very good thing.

Even Jane had behaved well enough and had gone to his appointment with their Medical Officer without too many complaints. He had gotten his ice cream after lunch and that might have helped.

She smiled warmly thinking about her imp. It was turning out to be very difficult for her not to touch him here at work. She realized that since they'd confessed their feelings for each other, they'd been incredibly touchy-feely. And she wasn't even talking about the sex. No, they'd been holding hands, kissing, caressing, and touching each other almost constantly and she'd enjoyed this closeness very much.

This came as a complete surprise, well both her savoring it and him acting like that. He'd been shying away from almost all physical contact during the whole time she'd known him. She'd actually been one of the few people he had allowed to touch him on occasion. But she knew, she shouldn't be surprised. It hadn't been a case of Patrick not liking to be touched but rather him denying himself this luxury out of self-punishment. For all she knew, he could have been a very physical person before his family's murder. Considering her new insights from the last three days, she was rather convinced that that was the case. So she decided to encourage him to continue expressing his feelings that way. It was a real win-win situation for her after all.

Well, not at work, of course. But she had to admit that he had done everything in his power to act in normal Jane-style today and not to raise attention to their changed status. And apart from her constant craving to touch him, she thought they'd been doing well so far. That Cho had seen through their or rather _her_ act at once, couldn't be taken as the yardstick. Still, she would obviously have to work on her facial expressions when talking about her lover.

Since they weren't working a case at the moment, she decided she'd call it a day soon. No reason to linger at the office when she could be at home with Patrick, where she was at liberty to actually touch him when she felt like it. And there was no need to force him to stay here any longer either in his state. He could pretend all he wanted but she still saw that he didn't feel very well.

She shut off her computer and put her desk to order, grabbed her jacket and briefcase, and locked her office. Upon entering the bullpen, she made her way over to the brown monstrosity in the corner, which was, as usual, occupied by her curly consultant.

He watched her approach with a curious expression. "Wow, Lisbon. You look like you plan to leave for the day. But that can't be true. It's only five o'clock after all," he teased.

"If you want me to give you a lift you better shut up and get ready. I'm out of here," she stated.

He sat up immediately. Rising from the couch too fast however caused him a slight dizzy spell. Lisbon caught on to it and had the presence of mind to actually grab his left arm to steady him instead of his right one, which had been closer to her. "Easy, Jane. I didn't mean to imply you had to jump up at once. Take your time."

Cho had gotten up as well when he realized his teammate was on the verge of tumbling. He came over and inquired if the other man was alright or whether he needed help.

Patrick had collected himself at that point and nodded. "Just got up too fast. I'm fine. Sorry for the scare."

He started to move, pulling Lisbon along with him because she was still holding his arm. "Hey, I was supposed to support you, not the other way around, Jane," she complained.

He stopped abruptly, causing her to walk into him. "You said you wanted to leave, Lisbon. I'm just following orders. Somehow it never turns out right. Either I'm not following orders and you get miffed, or I'm actually following them and you're still complaining." He sighed theatrically. "I guess it's my fate to always get it wrong."

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama-queen, Jane. Come on." She dragged him with her. Before leaving the bullpen, she addressed her team. "Everybody, go home. We all worked long hours last week. Enjoy the peace as long as it lasts."

She and Jane could hear Rigsby's amazed reaction and Cho's answer, both of which they were most certainly not supposed to hear.

"What's wrong with the boss? She's leaving early on a Monday AND she's sending us home as well."

"Sometimes you are really dumb, Rigs. Did you take one look at Jane today? She's making sure HE gets home early. Honestly, man. And you call yourself a detective."

Patrick and Teresa had to grin at each other after overhearing that little dialog. It felt so very familiar. Probably because they had actually grown as close-knit as a family over the years. It was good to know that some things never changed, like Rigsby being a dunce and Cho calling him out on it.

* * *

On the drive home, they decided to get some take-out again. Jane didn't feel up to cooking, or rather, Lisbon determined he wasn't up to it and she wasn't in the mood either. They opted for Chinese.

Reaching her apartment at last, she gave in to her urge to hug and kiss him at long last as soon as the door was closed behind them. She pressed her lips to his greedily and almost forced him to open his mouth with her eager tongue. The kiss was deep and passionate and they both groaned hungrily. She couldn't stop her hands from touching him wherever she could reach: his hair, his back, his butt. He did the same, albeit only with his left arm and hand. The take-out boxes stood forgotten on the dresser in the entrance, while the two lovers reacquainted themselves with one another. "I want you, Patrick," she moaned.

Never breaking their kiss, he opened her pants and pulled them down together with her underwear. She stepped out of her boots and clothes. He shoved the food to the back of the dresser, lifted her up and placed her on the edge of the furniture. His right arm hurt quite a bit in the process, but he ignored it. He stepped in between her dangling, spread legs. His left hand made its way to her core, touching her gently. Her breath hitched. He found her already wet and eager, so he only continued his fondling for a short moment, before he moved to open his own pants. But Teresa beat him to it. She freed his erection and rubbed it lightly, eliciting a deep moan from him.

"The small bag there," he pressed out. "Bought some condoms at the drugstore while waiting for the food."

She fumbled behind her until she'd found the right bag and the pack inside it. She ripped it open impatiently. Not wasting anymore time, she opened one of the small packages and pulled the rubber over his penis, took a hold of his stiff organ and guided it to her entrance. He sank into her with one smooth thrust. He just stayed like that for a long while, both relishing the feeling of being so intimately connected. They exchanged heated open-mouthed kisses.

Finally, he started to move inside of her. Very slowly and carefully at first, but with their growing arousal, his thrusts increased both in speed and intensity. He bestowed feather light touches to her clit with the fingers of his left hand as well, driving her completely wild. He brought her off like that twice, before he succumbed to his own urgent needs and started to pound her in earnest, his tongue mimicking his actions in her mouth. He came with a blissful groan and being the thoughtful and skilled lover he was, he actually managed to make her come a third time almost simultaneously.

Both were panting but it didn't stop Patrick from kissing her deeply once more before he pulled out of her. He made to help her down from the dresser, but she stopped him. "Don't. I can manage on my own and I don't want you to put more strain on your arm."

He stepped back to give her some space, nearly tripping over his own pants in the process, which were pooling around his feet. He chuckled at his own clumsiness. Before he bent down to pull up his clothes, he decided to get rid of the condom. Afterwards he stood there, indecisive what to do with the offending piece of rubber. With only one good arm, he was very limited in his options.

Lisbon had climbed down from the dresser in the meantime and watched the scene before her unfold with increasing mirth. "Need a hand, imp?" She snickered.

She could see in his expression that he wavered between accepting her help and keeping his dignity. He came to the conclusion that his dignity might take even greater damage if he didn't ask for her assistance. So he nodded.

She grinned knowingly, bend down and pulled up his shorts and pants and closed both the button and the zipper, exploiting their closeness to steal another kiss.

Then she grabbed their now cold food and proceeded to the kitchen. "I'll reheat it in the microwave. Why don't you dump that soiled little thingy and take a seat on the couch? I'll be with you in a few."

He went upstairs to the bathroom and washed his hands and his face. Looking up he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was a bit appalled at his own complexion. No wonder everybody had commented on it, he thought. He went downstairs again and sighed with relief, when his backside made contact with the sofa. Leaning back with a groan he realized just how fatigued he was.

Teresa came in with their food and took one look at him, coming to the same conclusion. She would have to feed him first, but he really needed to sleep, that much was clear.

After they'd finished their meal, he made no move to get up and clean the table. This was so unusual for him that it actually alarmed her a bit. "I'd like to lie down a bit on the sofa, if it's alright with you," he said meekly.

She caressed his cheek and nodded. "Of course, love. Just rest."

When she came back into the living room two minutes later after a trip to the kitchen, he was out like a light. She covered him with a blanket and decided to retire to her bedroom and watch some TV. She would have liked for him to sleep in a real bed, but right now whatever sleep he got was good in her book.

At 10.30 pm she was ready to turn in for the night. Patrick was still fast asleep on the couch and she opted to just leave him there.

* * *

**TBC**

**That was the end of the first day back at work. Let's see how the second one'll turn out...**

**A/N: I don't know what this time of year is like where you live. Here it's dark, and cold, and gray. But you could all send me some warmth and light by writing a review... thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11

Teresa awoke a bit early on Tuesday morning, already at six. Opening her eyes, she saw immediately that Patrick's side of the bed hadn't been used at all. She remembered the state he'd been in last night and hoped he'd gotten at least a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep on the couch.

She got up and went downstairs at once to check on her lover. Worry crept over her when she found him nearly in the exact same position she'd left him in on the sofa. Could he really still be asleep or was something wrong with him?

She stepped closer. His breathing was even and deep. She sighed with relief. Obviously his body had won out over his overactive brain for once and collected what it needed most urgently: sleep.

Carefully so as not to disturb him, she tiptoed upstairs again to shower and get ready for work. When she reemerged downstairs well over half an hour later, Patrick had started to stir, clearly on the verge of waking up. She walked over to him and tousled his hair gently. His mouth turned into a smile and he opened drowsy blue-green eyes. "Morning sleepyhead," she greeted him warmly. "You slept for more than ten hours."

"Morning, Emy," he croaked. "Guess I was a bit tired."

She chuckled. "That's the understatement of the year, imp."

She pecked him on the lips and straightened herself again. "Why don't you get ready while I make breakfast? Will you manage a shower on your own without wetting your arm?"

He propped himself up slowly. "I'll need a plastic bag or something. To put over the bandage. But other than that I'll be fine."

While she went to the kitchen to get him a bag, he got up and stretched with a groan. The nearly eleven hours on the couch fully dressed hadn't been exactly friendly to his back. But other than that, he felt refreshed. So many hours of uninterrupted sleep were a very rare luxury for him. Teresa came back with the plastic bag and he took it and went upstairs.

He came back down about half an hour later, hair groomed but still a bit wet, freshly shaven and dressed in a clean three-piece-suit. He looked well rested and some color had returned to his cheeks. Teresa felt relieved. His ashen complexion from the day before had really worried her.

"Oh, we're having eggs, splendid," he said happily. "Thanks, Teresa," he added, rounding the counter and pulling her into a sweet kiss. "Did you sleep well, my dear?"

"Yes, though I missed my pillow. But I didn't have the heart to wake you. You really needed to sleep and I was afraid you might not drift off again. How are you feeling? You look much better than yesterday," she stated.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his left hand and answered, "I'm fine. The arm doesn't hurt too much anymore and now, after the hot shower, my back's decided to forgive me for the night on the couch as well. So all in all – I'm much improved."

They took a seat on the barstools beside the counter to eat their breakfast. Twenty minutes later, at 7.30, they were ready to leave. "Do you want to take your own car, or are you willing to let me drive you once more?" she inquired.

"It's alright. You can give me a lift again. I'm still on that pain medication, so it's probably better that way," he answered while they were walking over to her car.

"You are acting astonishingly mature I must say. I'm actually quite impressed. I didn't know you had it in you," she teased him. She unlocked her SUV and took her place at the wheel. He got in on his side as well.

"Thanks, I think." He grinned. "Maybe I'm finally growing up… I even have another appointment with our lovely Medical Officer today. I just couldn't resist her tempting offer. You know how it is… me being a man and all."

Teresa chuckled. "Nice try, Jane. But I happen to know Gloria, and while she is a truly nice person, you won't be able to make me jealous with a 62 year old."

"For all you know I could make a fetish of mature females. It's not uncommon for men who grew up without a mother," he said with a wicked smile.

"I put my full trust in Berta and her qualities as a mother figure, beard or no beard," she replied with conviction.

He leant a bit over, careful not to disturb her driving, and pecked her on the cheek. Afterwards he whispered in her ear. "And you would be right of course. To be honest, Gloria is scary. That's why I'll go."

Teresa laughed heartily at that. "I told her to be firm with you. Guess she followed my advice."

"She threatened to drag me to her treatment room by my ear. She's dangerous, Teresa," he whined. "And YOU egged her on to boot? You are a mean one, Agent Lisbon. And you are supposed to PROTECT me."

She snickered. "Oh my poor baby. You know what? If you keep a stiff upper lip at the doctor's, you'll get another ice cream afterwards."

"Not that I'll ever say no to such an offer, but for the record: I'm not five years old, Teresa." He pouted.

"If you could see your face right now, imp, even you yourself wouldn't be sure about that any longer." She snickered again.

* * *

After parking and making their way through the usual security in the lobby, they entered the bullpen about five minutes later and went to their normal spots: Lisbon into her office, Jane to his couch, though he only took a seat on it for a change. Having just slept on a sofa for over ten hours could do that to you. After a moment, he decided to go up to the attic instead.

Teresa had just stepped into her office and closed the door, when her cell phone rang. She saw on the display that the call came from someone at SacPD. Either a new case in town, or something about Jane senior, she thought.

"Agent Lisbon, CBI. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Agent. This is Officer Keen. I have bad news, I'm afraid." She heard the man at the other end of the line say. "I'm actually on my way to you. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I'll be with you in about five minutes."

"Well, thanks. Should I inform my consultant?" she inquired.

"Actually, I would prefer it if we could talk alone first," Keen replied.

"Okay, see you soon, Officer." She hung up.

She took off her jacket and started her computer with a very bad feeling in her stomach. Whatever this was about, she knew she wouldn't like it. Maybe that bastard Alex had brought up some old story and accused Patrick of a felony or something to discredit him. He had threatened him with that after all. She could just hope she would be able to get her lover out of it unscathed. Before her thoughts could produce other terrible scenarios, someone knocked on her door. She called her usual "Come in" and Officer Keen appeared. He took the offered seat in front of her and looked at her gravely.

"I think it's best, if I don't beat around the bush," he said and Libbon nodded. "Alexander Jane was found murdered in his cell this morning. All indications point to the perp being the serial killer Red John. I understand that you're the leader of the investigation on his case?"

She nodded again, speechless from shock. This couldn't be happening, her mind cried. She sat still for a full minute staring like an idiot, before her professionalism took over and she turned all business. "Give me all the facts, please," she asked.

"Well, as far as the coroner could say at first glance, Jane was killed some time between two and four am. His throat was slit and he has multiple incisions that at least at first glance look like the work of Red John, as far as the forensic team could say. They have been to two other of his crime scenes before, so they do have a certain knowledge on the subject." The officer cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts before continuing. "There was a bloody smiley face painted on the wall just across from the cell door. A letter was attached to the body." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "The original one's evidence of course, but I brought you a copy." He handed her the sheet.

It was white and the text was printed out, the font the same she'd seen Red John use before when communicating with Patrick. It read:

It seems that arrogance will yet be the downfall of all Jane-men: no one is allowed to touch my Patrick with a knife but me.

My dear Patrick: Take this as both punishment for rejecting my generous offer and as a token of my continued willingness to be your friend.

Teresa: Take good care of him for me.

Sincerely, RJ

"This… this is sick," she stammered. Her face had lost its color more and more with every word she'd read. That she'd been addressed in the letter as well and what that last sentence implied filled her with cold fear.

She needed to compose herself and she needed to do it now. She couldn't very well fall apart in front of an officer from SacPD. The question was, what was she supposed to do. She decided to call the rest of her team sans Jane into her office immediately. She hoped they all had arrived. What to do with Jane, though? He wouldn't forgive her, if she didn't inform him at once. But on the other hand, was he stable enough right now to take this blow?

First things first, she decided. "Thank you, Officer. My team and I will be there to examine the crime scene shortly. It was very thoughtful of you to come by and inform me personally. I appreciate it," she said.

"No problem, Agent. I assumed the Teresa mentioned in that letter is you, so I thought you should know before you came to the scene. Forensics have been over the place of course, but other than that, it's all still intact. I'll take my leave now. I would wish you a good day, but somehow I doubt, that there's a chance for that."

* * *

Lisbon went out to the bullpen and found, to her great relief, that Patrick wasn't on his couch, so she could ask the others to follow her into her office without him being any the wiser.

Her grave expression alarmed the three younger agents. In her office, they all sat and looked at her in anxious expectation.

Lisbon came to the momentous decision, to be completely open with them. "I need your help and advice," she said earnestly. "I'm about to reveal some things to you, that I'm not really comfortable with giving away, and furthermore, I probably shouldn't be the one to tell you some of those facts. But I see no other solution. I need your promise that everything we talk about now stays in this room."

She looked every one of her team in the eyes and got only serious nods and looks of confirmation.

"Okay. The man who attacked Jane with a knife on Sunday was found murdered in his holding cell this morning. There's a very high likelihood that the killer was Red John," she explained. She paused a moment because all three listeners had gasped in shock and obviously needed a minute to compose themselves.

"Ready to hear more?" she asked and her team mates nodded. "Well, what you don't know is that the man who attacked Jane was his father."

Another round of gasps could be heard. The youngest member of the team reacted the most as expected. "Oh my god! His own father?" Grace exclaimed. "And Red John killed him for it?"

"Thanks Van Pelt, for the concise summary of the facts," Teresa huffed.

"Sorry, boss," the young woman said shamefaced.

"No, it's alright, Grace. Sorry for reprimanding you. Tension levels are a bit high right now, I guess." She cast her agent an apologetic look.

"There is more to tell, I'm afraid. Red John left a letter on the body."

She read it out loud.

Cho cast Lisbon a pointed look. "He knows about you and Jane."

"It seems like it. Which means, he must have a very close eye on us. And he has an inside source at SacPD or the DA's office. Not that that surprises me," she answered.

Rigsby looked very confused. "What do you mean, Cho? What about Jane and the boss?"

Lisbon answered instead. "Well, that is the other matter I need to talk with you about. I'd rather not do it at this point, but I see no other solution. This is a rather delicate situation and I'm not at all comfortable with this." She paused, her expression having turned very tense. "I'll just come right out and say it. Jane and I are involved in a romantic relationship. It's a very new development, only a few days in fact." She blushed a bit as she spoke.

Van Pelt and Rigsby looked at her in open-mouthed shock. "You… you and Jane?" Wayne stammered helplessly. "But why?"

Teresa suddenly found the humor in the situation and that gave her the necessary strength to compose herself again fully. "Well Rigsby, I thought it would be the perfect way to keep him on a short leash. Wouldn't you agree?"

Rigsby nodded stupidly and Van Pelt couldn't help but give a small laugh, which helped her to get over her initial shock. "I think it's about time," she said emphatically. "I mean, you've been in love with each other for years."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows in astonishment. Had she really been that obvious about it? Well, at least Wayne hadn't known, not that that was much of a consolation.

That was the exact moment her office door opened and a curly head looked inside. "Is this some sort of conspiratorial meeting? Why wasn't I invited? I love a good conspiracy," Jane said.

* * *

**TBC**

**Thanks to all who've reviewed the last chapter. I'm still waiting for the sun to show itself, but you made me all feel some warmth... **

**I hope I managed to surprise you a bit with this chapter. Feel free to let me know.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Get lost, Jane," she ordered. "This is official agents only. You're not needed. Go, drink tea or something."

She could see a short glint of hurt in his eyes at her harsh words. But she should have known that she wouldn't get rid of him that way. He stepped fully inside her office and closed the door behind himself and took a seat at the last empty spot on the sofa. "I think - not. This is too intriguing. I always wanted to find out what you real agents do, while I solve your cases." He motioned with his hand in an inviting gesture. "Just continue. I'll be as silent as a mouse - you'll forget I'm even here."

Teresa got up from the chair behind her desk and went over to stand in front of him. "Jane, I'm serious. I don't want you here right now. Please leave," she said with a very stern voice.

Unfortunately, her lover happened to be a very perceptive man. He smelled the rat immediately. He jumped up from the couch. "It's Red John, you're trying to keep a Red John case from me," he stated angrily. "How could you do that? You're not leaving me out of this, Lisbon, I won't accept it, you hear me? I won't accept it!" He was very agitated and almost shouted the last part.

She put a calming hand on his arm. "Jane, please. Compose yourself. Trust me, I have my reasons. "

He shook his head vehemently and dislodged her hand from his arm. "No, Lisbon! You won't keep me from a Red John case, no way." He examined her stubbornly. Suddenly a look of comprehension appeared on his face. He let out an ugly laugh that had all the room's occupants flinching. "He killed Alex. That's it, isn't it, Lisbon?" He laughed again. "Of course, that explains it. You think I can't handle it." He paused briefly and his look turned intense. "News flash: I survived finding my murdered wife and child, people I actually loved. I assure you, I can endure this just fine. It's you keeping this from me I can't stand."

She cast him a pleading look. "Patrick, please be reasonable. You're injured. You shouldn't even be at work. I think…"

"Frankly, I don't give a damn what you think," he interrupted her angrily.

"Jane, you are way out of line! Pull yourself together or I will have security escort you out of this office and the building. Do I make myself clear?" she demanded in her strictest tone.

He deflated visibly. He made his way in the direction of the door. His voice was dripping with both hurt and sarcasm, when he addressed her again. "I apologize, Agent Lisbon. I am sorry I'm such a liability, being both injured by and related to the victim and thus, though being the foremost expert on the likely perpetrator, not suitable to offer the consultancy I'm so generously paid for by this fine institution. If you would excuse me? Obviously I have more important tasks to attend to, like drinking tea." The last sentence was spat out.

He'd reached the door by now and was about to open it when Teresa decided that enough was enough. This was not at all going the way she had wanted it to go. Well, she hadn't even known what she wanted. She had hoped to get her team's advice on how to proceed and what to do about Patrick. But now, things were getting completely out of hand. He had crossed a line but so had she, and she couldn't let him leave like that.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it had been a mistake not to involve him right from the start? She would truly need his expertise at the crime scene. He would be able to tell at once, whether this had been a deed executed by the serial killer himself or one of his minions. But it still was his father in that cell. And even though their relationship had been complicated, this had to affect him. Not to mention the letter…

Well, here goes nothing, she thought and stepped in his way before he could open the door. "Stop, Patrick. Look at me, please."

She was happy he did. But what she saw in his eyes made her shudder. He was deeply hurt and felt betrayed by her. On impulse, she pulled him into a hug.

He was tense and stiff as a poker at first, but after a moment his arms came around her and he melted into her with a shuddering sigh.

At this point she realized that the rest of her team was still present. They looked at her with varying expressions of shock, incomprehension and compassion. "Cho, Grace, Wayne, please give us a moment alone. We'll all drive to the crime scene in a few minutes. Get the cars ready. Thank you," she ordered.

The three agents left immediately, and her loyal second in command, when he left as the last, had the presence of mind to close the blinds and the door. She mouthed a thank-you in his direction and he gave her a nod.

The moment they were alone, Teresa pulled Patrick into a fierce kiss. She hoped she could convey all her feelings of regret with it. He didn't return the kiss at first, but when one of her hands fisted his hair at his neck and the other stroked his back, he moaned and kissed her back almost desperately.

She was the one who broke the kiss, before things could get out of hand, which wasn't too unlikely considering they were both tension filled and overemotional right now. She pulled him over to the visitors' chair at her desk and pushed him into it. Needing to put some distance between them, she sat down behind her desk and looked at him. "Patrick, I'm sorry. This was a bad call on my part. It wasn't supposed to go like this."

He held her eyes with a sad expression and whispered. "I'm sorry, too, Teresa. I… You hurt me and I took it badly. And you know how I get when Red John is involved. Can we please just start over? Pretend the last ten minutes didn't occur? You just called me into your office to tell me about our latest case…"

She nodded. "Okay. We can do that. But we should maybe talk about it at a later date. Right now, however, we do have a case…" She continued to brief him on the facts she knew and showed him the letter.

"I swear, the bastard gets sicker every day." Jane shook his head in astonishment. "What's it with all those 'my Patricks'?" His face showed disgust. "Sounds almost like a love letter." He shuddered at the thought.

"Teresa, we need to go to the crime scene as fast as possible. This was personal. And in those cases he usually acts by himself. But this was on such a short note and in a prison, that he took a high risk. He is a careful planner normally, but in this instance, if he did it in person, there is a chance he's slipped up somehow. We need to get there immediately, before some disciple of his on a tech team or on the prison ward gets the chance to destroy possible evidence."

He got up from his chair, cast her a demanding look and motioned for her to follow him. "Let's talk about the other details – mainly the letter and what it entails – later," he added, when she'd closed the gap between them.

She stopped him for a moment right before they were about to leave the office and asked softly. "Patrick, are you really alright with this? In spite of everything, he was still your father."

"I have to do this. And I will do this. Afterwards might be another story, but right now I'm keeping my emotions out of this. Trust me, I can handle it. And don't worry too much, okay?" He looked at her intently. His left hand came up for a short, reassuring touch to her cheek. "I'm glad I have you by my side and I really hope, you'll be there for me later, when all of this catches up to me," he added sincerely.

"I'll always be there for you, Patrick. We'll get through this together, never doubt that. Let's go," she said with finality.

"Ah Lisbon, just one last question. I'm sure I already know the answer, but…the team. You told them about us?" he inquired.

Teresa nodded. "Yes. I figured that they need to know all the facts especially considering what was in that letter. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"I'm sure it's better that way. Acting isn't exactly your forte. You are too honest a person to be a good liar. We have established that before." She cast him a sullen look, which made him chuckle. "Oh come on, my dear. That was a compliment actually." She still looked defiant. "Then think about all the embarrassment we can cause Rigsby. I'm sure he blushes at the mere thought of mommy and daddy kissing." He grinned evilly.

"Mommy and daddy?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes of course. In our little family we are definitely the parents. Well now anyway. Before, you were mum and I was some goofy uncle," Patrick explained keeping a completely straight face.

Lisbon laughed out loud at that and with a mischievous grin she said, "Oh yes. Riling up Rigs is going to be fun. But Jane?" He nodded. "Don't exaggerate it, okay? And I don't want this," she gestured between them, "to become public knowledge outside the team, okay?"

"I know, Teresa. I will be discreet, I promise. I'm an excellent liar after all," he replied. "Now let's go."

* * *

They met the rest of the team by the cars. The three others were occupying a dark blue SUV already, another one was ready to be used as well. Lisbon went over to Cho, who sat in the driver's seat of the first one. "You know where to go? The remand center, okay? I'll take Jane. See you there."

Jane had taken the passenger seat and was waiting impatiently for them to get moving. When she got in, he asked her to hurry up in an agitated tone. She cast him an irritated look conveying the silent message that he should pull himself together.

He pouted a bit at first, but after a moment he started to talk calmly with her. "You've figured out that he must have a very close informant either inside SacPD or the DA's office. Well, I wouldn't put it past him if it was both actually." She nodded and motioned for him to continue. "Especially the SacPD-connection could be a very old one because they had the case before it went to the CBI. And there must be a mole in the remand center as well."

He shook his head in exasperation. "I hate that bastard – he has his fingers literally everywhere it seems." He sighed. "Is it any wonder I have trust issues? At the moment the only person I trust completely is you in fact." He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. "The team's a solid second, but as it stands, I can't give them the full 100% I'm afraid…" he added sadly.

She nodded. "I understand that, Patrick. But we have to take a leap of faith once in a while. If we don't, we'll go crazy because we'll see his minions everywhere. That way lies clinical paranoia, and that's one direction I'm not willing to follow you."

"I don't want to be like that either. I'm very happy I have you to ground me. I think I would've succumbed to madness long ago without you. I love you, Teresa. I don't think I've told you that yet today." His hand, which still rested on her thigh, started to caress her tenderly.

It reassured her immensely. Before in her office she had been afraid his infamous RJ-obsession would take over completely. He lost his cool each time they were faced with a case concerning the serial killer and acted even more irrational than usual. And this was a very special case to boot. So hearing him talking calmly and taking the time to show her his affection made it clear that he really had meant it when he'd said her happiness was his first priority now. It meant more to her than she could express with words. She was actually speechless.

"Did I say something wrong, Teresa?" he inquired anxiously, when she didn't react.

She shook her head and did everything to collect herself. It wouldn't do to leave him out in the cold right after he'd offered her the deepest declaration of love he could possibly make. "No, Patrick," she started after a moment. "Actually, I'm deeply touched by your words. They made me a bit tongue-tied, I guess. I mean, you've said so before a few days ago, but to hear you confirm this in the face of an actual Red John case…" She paused to take a deep breath. "I mean, that your feelings for me are more important than your vengeance…I must confess that I didn't truly believe it before. I hoped…and now…I don't know what to say, Patrick, apart from I love you too, with all my heart. And that I'm happy."

She smiled warmly in his direction for a moment, before her gaze went back to the street ahead. "We are driving to what I know will be a grisly crime scene and still I'm happy. Guess I'm finally losing it, hmm?"

His quiet, short chuckle warmed her heart. "So my lunacy is contagious after all." He squeezed her thigh another time before he removed his hand completely, seeing their destination was near. "Let's get it over with," he added seriously with a deep sigh.

* * *

**TBC**

**At the moment I'm out of creative ideas to motivate you to leave me a review, so I'll just ask very nicely: please drop me a line or two.**


	13. Chapter 13

The team gathered at the prison entrance and entered together after passing several security check-points. They were led to the right cell by one of the wardens. When they came closer, they could overhear a heated discussion.

"No sir. You can't get in there. It's a closed scene and the CBI is in charge of the case, not SacPD," a male voice said decisively.

"I'm the liaison to the CBI. I need to get in there now. Don't make this difficult, or I'll have a little talk with your superiors," another male voice answered in agitation.

"No can do, Officer. I have my orders. You can take this up with my boss, if you like. I'll not let you in," the first voice replied.

"Step away, Warden, or I'll make you," the other threatened.

"Don't touch me, sir. If you force your entrance, there will be serious consequences," number one said indignantly.

Lisbon and Jane both identified the second speaker as Officer Keen. A contemplative look was shared between the two and their steps grew faster. They rounded the last corner and caught their first sight of the cell door. The SacPD officer was just about to jostle away the prison guard.

The warden leading the CBI team ran to the scene and grabbed the cop. "What the hell are you doing? You have no right to be at this crime scene and to attack one of our guards," he exclaimed.

Rigsby and Cho had reached the place of the altercation as well and helped the prison guards to subdue the SacPD officer. Lisbon addressed him. "What are you doing, Keen? You know, we have taken over this case. You have no business here. I have to arrest you for obstructing an investigation."

"Ah, come on, Teresa. Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet? And here our mutual friend claims you to be clever." He laughed tauntingly.

Seeing her suspicions confirmed, she ordered. "Rigs, Cho, search him immediately. And in depth. I want this one alive for questioning. Make sure he doesn't carry any poisons or the like." Accosting the prison wardens she asked. "Is there a place we can take him for the search and questioning?"

"Yes, ma'am. There's an interrogation room around the corner. You can use it," the one who'd led them in answered.

"You're wasting your time. I'm not gonna talk," Keen sneered.

Jane stepped in front of him. "Oh, you will, Keen, you will. And as a first question: What did you want in that cell?"

Keen laughed snidely again. "Ah, Patrick, nice to see you've rediscovered your optimism. How very sweet to see what a little sex can do to a man. I'm sure our friend will be most delighted to hear about this."

Jane ignored his taunts and went over to Teresa. He spoke to her silently so they couldn't be overheard. "I'd like to take him into the cell, Lisbon. He wanted to get something from the scene. You know what that could mean, don't you?" She nodded and he continued. "He might give something away. But maybe it would be prudent to search him thoroughly first. I'd hate to be left with another dead disciple."

Lisbon nodded again and ordered. "Cho, Rigsby? Take him and search him. Bring him back here when you're sure he's clean."

Her two agents nodded and hauled the SacPD officer off.

* * *

"Now Warden Stevens, would you please open the cell door for us?" Lisbon requested when they were out of sight.

The prison guard followed her orders. Jane was the first to enter the room, followed by Lisbon and Van Pelt. He wore a stoic mask and had steeled himself for what would greet him, which was, at first glance, an ugly red sneering smiley face on the wall opposite the door. He had to forcefully swallow down the bile that threatened to escape him. He willed his breathing to slow down. It was harder than he'd thought to turn his gaze to the place where the bed and the body had to be. He closed his eyes to collect himself before daring to look. Suddenly he felt a small but firm hand squeezing his shoulder gently.

"I'm here, Patrick. It'll be okay," Teresa whispered in his ear. "Together, love. Together."

He nodded and opened his eyes.

Even though he'd expected it, the grisly sight still made him feel queasy. The open lifeless eyes so much like his own stared at him with silent accusation in death.

He forced himself to inspect the body with his usual clinical distance taking note of every detail. He stepped closer and examined the slashes and concluded at once that this was the work of the serial killer himself. The bastard had even painted the toe nails red with his father's blood – a gruesome reminder just for him, he knew.

"He did it personally," he pressed out. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Lisbon nodded. She'd come to the same conclusion, but she trusted Jane's judgment above all others when it came to Red John and his confirmation turned the assumption into fact in her book.

"Keen trying to force his entrance was a dead give away as well, but the evidence here makes it definite. The smiley is placed at first sight, the cuts are added post mortem with his usually precision and the painted toe nails are his very special little way of saying, 'hello Patrick'," Jane explained with a detached voice.

He stopped a moment, looking around. "Ah, and maybe I won't even need Keen in here. I just found the slip-up. You can say what you want about Alex Jane, but he wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Though I assume he didn't have much of a chance. My guess? The toxicological screening will show that he was sedated. But still, he tried to resist," he added, having knelt down in front of the bed to take a closer look at the details. "Look here, Lisbon." He beckoned her over. "Look at his right hand. It's cramped. Could be rigor mortis, but I don't think so. The left hand doesn't look like this. I'm sure we'll find something inside of it," he declared.

In an act totally uncharacteristic for him he stopped his hands from touching the body at the last moment for once, even before Lisbon had a chance to scold him for disturbing a crime scene. Instead he asked his girlfriend, "Can you give me a pair of those terrible rubber thingies, you coppers love so much?" She handed him the requested gloves with a roll of her eyes. After donning them, he took hold of his father's hand and pried the fist open. A few grayish-brown very short hairs became visible.

"Evidence bag, Lisbon!" Jane cried out in triumph.

Lisbon handed him one at once. Carefully and with the precision he'd often observed and made fun of in his colleagues, he gathered the possible proof of the serial killer's identity as if he had done it for years. He got up from his crouch and gave the bag to Teresa. "I'm not sure who to give it to. I'm a bit afraid to hand it over to forensics. He might have connections there too. What do you think?" he asked her while he removed the rubber gloves and held them out to her with a disgusted face as if they were poisonous.

Lisbon took the evidence and the gloves, the latter with another roll of her eyes. "Good question, Jane. Maybe we should keep some of it and only send half off to tech?" she suggested. "And keep this hush-hush as well? No reason to proclaim what we found. Right now only you, Grace and I know about this," she answered. She motioned for Grace to step closer. "We keep this between the three of us at the moment, okay?"

The younger woman nodded immediately. "Of course, boss. This is huge. I…" She sported a very determined face. "I would do just about anything to get him… you know… after… after Craig." At the last words her voice broke a bit.

Patrick made his way over to her and pulled her into a spontaneous hug, stroking her back comfortingly. Grace stiffened at first, shocked beyond words by the very uncharacteristic physical contact initiated by the consultant, but the embrace felt perfect in her tumultuous state.

Usually she tried to hide it as well as possible but the hurt from the betrayal of her fiancé still sat deep. And every time they were confronted with another Red John case, she realized how much she'd come to sympathize with Jane's views. He was probably the person with the best understanding of what she had gone through. Unfortunately, as a rule, he was also completely unavailable for comfort, shying away from personal attachment. But right now he seemed to be willing to offer her support and she had no words to describe how thankful she was to him for it. Maybe, just maybe, he needed that hug just as much, and if that was the case, she was more than ready to return the favor. Her arms came around his back as well and she melted into him.

* * *

She composed herself, when voices outside the cell indicated that Cho and Rigsby where on their way back with the SacPD mole. She stepped out from Jane's embrace and sent a grateful nod in his direction.

"Let's pretend we didn't find anything. I want to observe his behavior in here," Patrick whispered to the two women, who both nodded their consent. "I presume Red John only wanted him to check the scene for possible clues. If he'd known that Alex had actually managed to grab some of his hairs, he would've cleared them away himself. I guess he had to leave in a hurry and couldn't take all his usual precautions. He needed someone to screen the scene before we came," he added.

The door opened and the three men entered. It got quite crowded and Lisbon ordered Van Pelt and Rigsby to step outside. She wanted Cho inside with them, because he was an acute observer in his own right. Another pair of eyes were always a good thing. Furthermore, he was the one with a firm hold on their handcuffed prisoner.

Officer Keen took in the scene at once, his gaze lingering intently on every little detail. He examined the floor, the bed, and the body. His eyes stayed at the hands a bit longer, but Jane had made sure to close the right hand enough for it to look just like the other one. Red John's disciple released a very subtle breath of relief when he inspected them.

Patrick observed the man intently and the nearly invisible easing of his demeanor didn't escape his attention.

"I don't mind if you get him out of here again. I got what I was looking for from him," he said, casting a questioning look in Lisbon's direction.

The senior agent nodded. "Alright, Cho. Get him out of here and down into the car. We're just about finished here. Let's take him to Headquarters. Why don't you and Rigsby just go ahead with him? We'll be there soon," she concluded.

Her second in command nodded.

"Nothing, you got nothing from me, Patrick. You're just bluffing. Always manipulating people, heh? You should all be warned. Jane's just like Red John. They could be brothers." Keen grinned evilly and spoke up so he could be heard even outside the cell. "You," he addressed Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt, "might call him a friend, but he would sell you out whenever it suited him. You're just bait to him, means to an end. Just wait and see," he taunted.

"I'm sure, your master would be delighted to hear how highly you speak of him. If I really was just like him, and I happened to be the way you just described me, then at least you do know that at this point you're nothing but a useless liability to him," Patrick replied in a cold voice that made them all shudder. "I'd say your best chances are with us right now. But if you're too dumb to see that, just continue this way. We at least don't have the habit of killing whoever stands in our way. But if you're suicidal and willing to die for a man who doesn't give a damn about you, there isn't really much we can do to help you."

"Cho, get him out of here," Lisbon repeated. "I have heard enough."

When she was alone in the cell with Jane, she stepped closer to him. "Are you ready here or do you need more time?" she asked carefully.

"I'm just about ready to go. Would you… could you… Can you give me a minute alone here, Teresa?" he asked.

"Of course, Patrick. Take your time. I'll be just outside." She squeezed his shoulder gently once more and left.

* * *

**TBC**

**So, one mole found... and some hairs... Where might all of this lead? Any suspects anyone? Feel free to let me know - also your opinions on whatever else. Reviews are always welcome. **

**A/N: In case there where any possible misunderstandings about my author note last chapter: I have NO intention to stop posting! I've already nearly finished writing this fic and I will post the whole thing. I hate incomplete stories and I wouldn't want you to invest time and interest in reading this just to be left without a real conclusion. That won't happen, I promise.**


	14. Chapter 14

When he came out of the cell a few minutes later, she took a good look at him for the first time since they'd come here. He looked pale and worn. His mask was firmly in place, but she knew him so well she could see the cracks.

They talked shortly with the prison guard still present outside the cell with Van Pelt, thanked him for being so attentive, and charged him with resealing the crime scene. The warden asked them to wait a moment, so he could call someone to follow them out, because their previous attendant hadn't returned after accompanying Cho, Rigsby and Keen. Shortly afterwards, another guard came and motioned for them to follow him.

Five minutes later they'd left the building and stood outside. The moment they'd cleared the compound, Patrick made a run for the shrubbery which bordered the parking lot at one side. He knelt down, almost keeled over and retched. Teresa was at his side seconds later. She put her arms around his waist and held him against her chest from behind. "I've got you, Patrick. It's gonna be alright. I love you, you'll be fine. Just let it out, love," she murmured in a comforting low tone.

After a moment of hesitation Grace went to the car first to get a bottle of water and some tissues and then made her way over to them. At first she'd thought she shouldn't intrude, but then she'd realized that the man could probably need all the support possible.

It had been easy to forget that the victim had in fact been Jane's father. She didn't know much about their relationship and figured it couldn't have been very amiable considering the man had tried to stab his own son. But still. This had been a murder aimed at their consultant personally. And the scene had been cruel and horrid even for her. How must this have been for Patrick?

She had to admire the control he'd shown inside. But if she had needed one conformation that he wasn't an emotionless manipulator who only used people for his personal games, seeing him right now would have been more than enough proof.

She knelt beside her friend and handed him the tissues. With the one hand that wasn't holding the water bottle, she started to rub his neck comfortingly. She could hear what her boss was whispering to him and felt a little embarrassed to witness the intimate words, but Lisbon cast her a thankful and encouraging glance.

Jane had stopped his heaving by now. He released some hiccoughing sobs all the while wiping his face with the tissues, franticly trying to remove the traces of his moment of weakness in front of his lover and a teammate.

"Are you ready to stand up, Patrick?" Teresa asked him gently.

He nodded and tried to push himself up on weak legs.

"Slowly. Let me and Grace help you," she said gently.

"I'm fine," he answered with embarrassement. "I'll manage on my own. Just give me a minute."

"Hush, Patrick. Let your stupid male dignity take a backseat for once. There's no shame in accepting our help. No one here will think any less of you, just because you show you're human for once," she scolded him lightly, taking a hold of his right underarm, carefully avoiding his injury. She motioned for Grace to take his other side and together they heaved him on his legs. He stood a little unsteady at first, leaning on Teresa for support, but soon he'd gathered his wits again. Van Pelt handed him the bottle of water and he thanked her meekly. He drank greedily and used some of the liquid to cool and wash his face as well.

"I'm ready to leave," he said a moment later.

"Do you want to go home or back to the CBI?" Lisbon asked him.

"Back to work," was his immediate and expected answer.

* * *

They went over to the car. Teresa motioned for Van Pelt to take the wheel handing her the keys. She pushed Jane into the backseat and sat beside him as close as possible. When they'd both fastened their belts, she took a hold of his hand and intertwined their fingers.

"I want you to see Gloria at once when we get back," she said.

"I'm alright now, Teresa, really. I'm sorry for my loss of control, but I have a lock on it now. Don't worry," he replied. "Grace, I apologize for my unprofessional behavior. I'll make sure, it doesn't happen again."

Grace shook her head. "It's fine, Jane. I understand. There's no reason to be ashamed." She carefully backed the SUV out of the parking spot. "We might deal with homicide and ugly scenes a lot, but we are still human, aren't we?" And nearly inaudibly she added. "I puked my head off after Craig, Patrick. I do understand. Please don't feel bad about this, okay?"

"Thank you, Grace," he said softly. "I appreciate your compassion."

The rest of their trip went by in silence with Teresa caressing the back of his hand comfortingly the whole time, her head rested on his shoulder, his cheek pressed to it, his nose buried in her hair.

Van Pelt found the sight incredible endearing, but didn't say so of course, just smiled to herself. She was glad they had each other now. She knew deep down she should be jealous, but with them she just couldn't be. In her opinion, if anyone deserved some happiness it was those two.

* * *

When HQ came into view, the two passengers in the backseat separated at once with a disappointed sigh. They left the car and Lisbon told Van Pelt to go upstairs while she accompanied Jane to the medical officer.

"Really, Lisbon. This is totally unnecessary. I can manage just fine on my own," Jane complained.

"Maybe I'm doing this for myself, Jane. I'll be a lot more relaxed as soon as I know both your arm and everything else has been taken care of. So stop whining," she answered strictly.

He rolled his eyes.

Teresa knocked on the door of the treatment room and the doctor called them in at once. "Ah, Mr. Jane! Back so soon? I didn't expect you until later this afternoon. Oh Teresa, you brought him personally this time? Wasn't necessary, dear. I can handle him," the matronly woman said in greeting.

"I don't doubt that, Gloria, but I don't trust him to divulge all the information you'll need to evaluate his present medical status," Lisbon replied.

"Oh? Has something else happened?" The medical officer frowned.

Teresa nodded her head. "Yes. Though it's not a purely physical thing," she explained.

"Hello ladies? I'm still here. Would it be possible for me to speak for myself maybe?" Patrick asked with indignation.

"No!" Both women cast him a short irritated look and shook their heads.

"Well, why don't I just leave you two to your lovely chat then?" he inquired making his way back to the door.

Two bossy females blocked his path immediately. "It was worth a try." He shrugged and went to the examination table, took a seat there, dangled his legs aimlessly, and stared into space.

"What happened, Teresa? He looks a bit pale and exhausted, but still much better than yesterday," Gloria said.

"This has to stay in this room. It's imperative. Do I have your word, Doctor Samuels?" Lisbon inquired in an official tone of voice.

The doctor understood the obvious gravity of the situation. She'd been a CBI officer long enough. "Yes, Agent Lisbon. Apart from doctor-patient-confidentiality, I accept this is also to be covered by CBI secrecy protocols. Please proceed with your explanation."

Lisbon smiled at her. "Thanks, Gloria. This is nothing personal, but there have been moles here before. And this is too important, okay?" The doctor nodded and Teresa continued. "Last night the man who attacked Patrick was murdered in his holding cell by Red John." Gloria gasped. "Furthermore, Patrick's attacker was actually his own father. Red John killed him for very personal reasons, namely to get to my consultant." The doctor's eyes were wide by now. "As you can imagine, this has affected him. He threw up three times after we left the crime scene and he was lightheaded and dizzy afterwards. Not surprising, I guess, but I thought you should know. He's had quite a bit of water and seems to be doing alright now." She finished her recapitulation.

"You took him with you? To the crime scene of his father's murder?" Gloria hissed appalled. "Are you nuts? It's a wonder he only threw up! Most people would probably be catatonic by now." She shook her head in perplexity. "Honestly, I swear, you cops all think you're invincible."

* * *

She went over to Jane. "How are you doing, Patrick?" she asked gently.

"Oh, suddenly realized you actually have a live patient here?" he teased. "I'm fine, Doc. Can we get it over with? Just change that bloody bandage on my arm and I'm all set."

"I certainly hope the bandage isn't bloody," she teased him back. Her experience had taught her to react to the patient's moods, no matter how bizarre she might find their behavior. That this man was joking with her after such an ordeal didn't faze her much. "Well, what are you waiting for? I can't very well change it through your shirt and jacket."

"You just want to see my bare chest again, Doc. But I have to disappoint you. I'm wearing a loose-fitting shirt today. I'm sure, just rolling up the sleeve will work this time," he answered, getting out of his jacket.

She snickered. "Well, what can I say? I must take my pleasures where I can get them. And your chest wasn't too bad a sight, Patrick. But alas, you won't even grant me this small treat today… A pity." She feigned frustration. Continuing with a much more serious voice she said. "But what did I hear about you throwing up, dear? I would like to give you something to hydrate you and make sure your mineral levels are where they should be. You're a bit undernourished already as it is."

He looked at her with horror. "No, no. That's not necessary. I'll just drink a lot of tea and water and I'll be fine. Really, no need to worry. Just change the bandage, okay?"

She shook her head. "Mr. Jane, please be reasonable. You'll feel much better afterwards. It'll only take about half an hour. An intravenous drip will do the trick in no time."

"No! I refuse. I'll leave as soon as we are finished with the bandage. I won't allow you to put a needle in my arm and pump who-knows-what into me. No way. Forget it," he said with obvious agitation.

Teresa came over to his side. "Please, Jane. She's not going to hurt you. She just wants to help. I would be really relieved knowing you got all the treatment you need."

"That's emotional blackmail, Lisbon," he huffed. "I don't need anything. I'm fine. Just leave me the hell alone."

"Why are you so afraid of this? I'll even stay, if it helps," she added with worry, ignoring his unfriendly words. She knew, he'd only attacked to get her off his back.

"You never know what they'll put into you, Lisbon. I want to stay in full control of my faculties, alright? We have a very important suspect to interview after all," he answered emphatically. "And I hate needles."

Gloria looked at him with a serious expression while she finished bandaging his arm. "I don't know, who has forced something mind-altering on you and how you developed this aversion. But I can assure you, all I would give you is physiological salt solution and some additional minerals." With sudden inspiration she added, "I'll show you the packages and you can check them over for any manipulations. Agent Lisbon can stay the whole time, if that helps." She caught his eye. "Patrick, please trust me. I would never do anything against your express wishes. If you insist, you can of course leave now. But even though you look much better than yesterday, I can see that you are suffering from physical and mental exhaustion. I would really like to ease at least your physical ailments. Especially if you have to be at the top of your game interrogating suspects." She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "By the way: I have a great talent for needlework – you won't feel a thing, I promise."

He released a deep breath. "I still don't like it. I don't feel that bad, honestly. Do you really think I need it, Doctor?"

She nodded. "It's not exactly essential for your survival. But it would do you a lot of good. I can see that you're suffering from long-term sleep-deprivation. And though that's not life-threatening either, it puts a lot of additional stress on the body. Add to it all the other things that have been happening to you and I must admit, I think it's a wonder that you're not in worse shape. You lost blood two days ago, you were sick today. That puts extra strain on the system. Please let me help you a bit, okay?"

"What can I possibly do against two women teaming up against me? Do what you have to do Doc, but Agent Lisbon stays. I trust her with my life," he conceded.

"Why don't you lie down?" Gloria smiled at him.

"No. No lying down. Can't we do it with me sitting up?" he inquired anxiously.

"Yes of course. No problem, dear. I just thought you'd be more comfortable..." she explained

"Helpless, you mean," he interrupted her, mistrust clouding his voice.

She shook her head with indignation. "I would really like to exchange a few choice words with those people who've caused this trauma to you. I'll not restrain you and I won't force you to do anything, I promise you that. Teresa, why don't you come and sit beside him. He trusts you, so your nearness might help," Gloria suggested.

Lisbon followed her advice and even put an arm around his waist. "Jane, this is the CBI, okay? No one is going to do anything against your will. I won't allow it," Lisbon said with conviction.

He nodded. "I apologize. I guess, I'm really a bit off my game right now. I don't like doctors. It's nothing personal, Gloria. I'm sure, you're a very nice and decent person and I have no rational reason to suspect anything else. Please proceed," Patrick told her after calming down.

He had made a great effort of composing himself, using one of his neat little bio-feedback tricks once again. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and held it out to the doctor, who'd prepared both the trip and the needle already. After retaining the blood from flowing out again with a rubber band on his upper arm, making his vein clearly visible, she disinfected the crook of his arm. When she was sure, she wouldn't have the slightest problem hitting the vessel at once, she took up the needle.

Jane watched her with eagle eyes the whole time. Gloria cast him a warm smile. "Just relax."

And with sure precision born of a long professional life as a doctor, she aimed and pricked his skin. He flinched a little but more from seeing what was happening than from actual pain. "See, no problem, Patrick. All done. Now I'll connect it to the drip and in just about a half hour, you'll be out of here." She patted his leg lightly.

"Here is some water for you as well. Drinking is important even though you'll get some additional fluids now," she explained, handing him a bottle.

"I'll leave you two alone now. I'll be in my office, if you need me," she said while walking through a connecting door.

* * *

**TBC**

**I'm glad to see from the reviews that there are still new readers finding ****and enjoying**** this story arc. Thanks for letting me know. **

**You're of course all very welcome to send me a line or two and bring some light into the darkness that's been surrounding me for months now (I've now the official confirmation that ****where I live ****this winter has been the one with the fewest hours of sunshine since they've started to register that kind of stuff. So my personal impression has been scientifically proven right). **


	15. Chapter 15

When Lisbon and Jane where alone, he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. Teresa who still sat beside him, moved to kiss him, but he stopped her. "Remember? I threw up and I didn't brush my teeth this time. I'll do it later. But for now I can't recommend kissing me."

She conceded the point but pecked his lips anyway. "Thank you for cooperating. Some day I really want you to tell me where this dislike of doctors really comes from. But I'm glad you allowed Gloria to help you." She caressed his cheek. "I'll stay, but I think I should give Cho a call. They might wonder what's happened to us."

He nodded. "Good idea. Ask him if they've gotten somewhere with Keen."

She cast him an exasperated look. "Of course, Jane. You didn't need to remind me. And while we're here we, or rather I, should also fix our evidence bag. Make two of it."

She found her cell phone and called her second in command to explain the situation. With only getting her half of the conversation, Jane became more an more impatient. Most of the time she only nodded or made noncommittal noises. When she finally hung up, he looked at her face full of anticipation. "What did he say?" he inquired.

She chuckled. "Nothing much, I'm afraid. Keen isn't very cooperative yet. But Cho thinks he might have gotten a bit insecure. You will get your try later. We'll see, what you can do. Now, let's fix our evidence." She produce the plastic bag from the pocket of her jacket. "Well, he has short hair and it's nearly completely gray in color. Maybe a light tan. Can you believe it? We might hold his DNA in our hands right now. This is huge, Patrick! Good work back there," she praised him. He sent her a small, but happy enough smile.

She donned some rubber gloves, got another clean bag out of her pocket, and separated the short strands carefully, moving about half of them over to the other pouch. When she was finished, she closed both of them painstakingly and placed them in her pocket again. Afterwards she removed the gloves, sat back down beside him, and took hold of his hand. "How are you doing, Patrick?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Physically? Well, I guess this," he motioned to the trip, "is actually helping. I do feel better. Other than that, I have no idea. Numb, empty, elated, subdued, guilty, relieved. A jumble of things." He sighed. "I'm glad you're here with me. That's at least one thing I'm sure of," he added silently.

She caressed his cheek again. "Thank you for your honesty. I know this isn't easy. And that you have a bit of a hard time sharing your emotions with anyone. Thanks for trying though. I appreciate it."

He nodded. "I might need some time on my own later today. Please don't take it the wrong way, okay? I have a lot on my mind and I have to work through it somehow. It doesn't mean that I'm trying to shut you out," he reassured her carefully.

"I understand that. As long as you know that I'm here to talk whenever you feel like it. But let's be clear about one thing: If you dare to blame yourself for your father's death, I'll beat the crab out of you!" she threatened.

The short spark of guilt she could see in his eyes confirmed her suspicions. She growled angrily. "I just knew it. God, Patrick. Once again: You are not responsible for the actions of a deranged serial killer! And if anything, Alex brought it onto himself. He shouldn't have attacked you in the first place. Stop this nonsense immediately or I swear, I'll punch your nose. This has to stop. You don't carry the sins of the world on your back. I won't stand for it anymore. Do you hear me?"

He looked at her, eyes wide with astonishment at her outburst. "But if it weren't…" he started.

"No! We don't play 'what if' here. I won't allow it. If that's what you plan to do once I leave you alone to your thoughts, I'll not leave your side even for a second, Jane."

She had to catch a breath before she continued with even more fervor. " Okay, if you want to play what if, I'll give you what if: what if your bastard of a father didn't have sex with your mother? What if, Patrick? What if your grandparents hadn't gotten a child? Or, what if there hadn't been a big bang some billion years ago?" She searched his eyes and found him paying her his full attention. "This is a useless game, can't you see that? You are so smart, but sometimes I swear you're the biggest idiot I know," she finished. And though her words had been harsh, her voice and eyes had been full of love while talking.

"Are you harassing my patient, Agent Lisbon?" Gloria asked teasingly from the doorway, about to re-enter the treatment room. She had overheard the last part and most importantly had noticed the kind of voice the Senior Agent had used. Suddenly a lot of things fell into place. These two were more than close friends. That much was obvious to her now. She smiled warmly at them.

"No, just talking some sense into this stubborn mule," Lisbon huffed. "Or rather, trying to. Who knows what's going on in that head of his? Completely nuts, if you ask me. A serial killer murders his asshole of a father and he feels guilty about it. Can you believe it?"

The doctor cast her a skeptical look. "He doesn't actually think that, does he? That's just…"

"Well, no. He doesn't and he's actually here…" Jane jumped into the conversation. "I just meant to say that if it hadn't been for my connection to him, Red John wouldn't have killed him. And that is the truth. You can't deny that," Patrick fnished, slightly peeved they were acting like he was invisible, talking like he wasn't in the room.

"Yes, and so what? It doesn't change a damn thing, Jane. Shit happens. Would it have been any better if he'd just done the usual thing and killed some random innocent young woman?" Lisbon inquired forcefully.

"Well, if you put it like that," he conceded.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. He was your father but foremost he was an abusive, heartless, selfish, ruthless, evil little creep. And he was about to cause you a world of trouble. Of course I would prefer it if Red John didn't off anyone at all, but given the choice, I'd much rather he killed him than someone innocent. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but that's what I think."

"I might not know all the facts, but Teresa's arguments sound rather convincing, Patrick. Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend, dear," Gloria concurred.

"What do you mean, my girlfriend?" Patrick asked.

"Oh, come on. I'm neither blind nor deaf. Sorry Teresa, but you gave it away. I only discovered it by chance, though. You couldn't have known I would come in at that particular moment in time. Other than that, you've both been rather convincing in your act. Don't worry though. Your secret is safe with me," the medical officer explained with a warm smile. "Now, Patrick. How are you feeling? The drip's just about finished."

"Fine. I feel fine. Better. Thanks. So I'm ready to blow this joint?" he inquired.

"You won't be blowing anything on my watch, but you'll be allowed to leave soon," she chuckled. "Your arm is healing nicely by the way. Does it still hurt much?"

He shook his head. "Only certain movements. Everything that requires application of force."

"Are you still taking any pain medications?" she inquired while carefully taking the needle out of his arm and putting a band aid on the puncture wound.

"I took a pill this morning. I slept a bit awkwardly on my arm and it hurt like hell at first after waking up. But that was almost six hours ago. I guess I'm nearly off it," he offered.

"Well, try without for a while then. But don't hesitate to take something, should the pain get worse. I'll see you again tomorrow. Now shoo. I've seen enough of you for one day," she teased him.

Patrick got down from the table. He just stood in thought for a moment. Then he walked over to the older woman and pecked her on the cheek. "Thanks for your patience with me. And for the help. I do feel better than in quite a while."

"You look better too, dear. I even see rosy cheeks," Gloria said happily. "Now, out with you."

Both agent and consultant did so, though Lisbon halted in the door. "Patrick, would you go ahead? I've something I need to ask Gloria in private."

He cast her a questioning look but nodded, left and closed the door.

* * *

"So Teresa. What's this all about? Nothing serious I hope?" the doctor inquired.

Lisbon shook her head and blushed a little. "No, not exactly. I… it's been very hectic at work lately and I've… it's well…" she stammered.

Gloria smiled benevolently at her. "Dear, it can't be that embarrassing. Just come right out and say it. Believe me, I've heard it all before."

Teresa plucked up her courage. "Well, as you've already figured it out, I'm involved with Jane."

Gloria nodded kindly and the agent decided to just come right out and say her part. "It's, well. It's only been a few days. And what I really want to say is… at the moment I don't have the time to make an appointment with my gynecologist. I know, it's not strictly your field of expertise anymore, but you told me once that it used to be." Lisbon took a deep breath and then continued in a rush. "So I wondered whether you could give me a prescription for some contraceptive pill? I promise, I'll see my usual doctor as soon as possible, but I'm honestly fed up with using condoms all the time," she explained, the blush reappearing with full force.

The doctor chuckled warmly. "Ah, I see. Young love. How sweet. No reason to be ashamed, Teresa. He is a very charming and handsome man. If I was twenty years younger…" She got a dreamy look. "Anyway, I understand. I can give you a prescription for one month but not more, okay? You've used something before, haven't you?" she asked.

Teresa nodded and the doctor continued. "I'll check your file then. If one brand agreed with you, there's no need to experiment with anything new."

She went to her computer called up Lisbon's file and a minute later the printer produced a prescription she signed and handed over. "Here you are, dear. Now have a lot of fun." She winked and Teresa blushed a little again and Gloria smiled, amused at the normally tough lady's obvious discomfort.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Lisbon asked with slight irritation.

The medical officer chuckled again. "To be honest? Yes. You're usually such a hard-ass cop, it's delightful to see the coy woman inside for once." Teresa's gaze could have killed. "Ah, don't pull such a face, dear. He's a great catch. I'm sure he's more than worth a little embarrassment. Now shoo, or he'll get worried. Can't be much fun to stand outside my door for that long."

"I told him to go ahead," Lisbon said, sounding slightly petulant to her own ears.

"And we both know he didn't," Gloria replied with another chuckle.

When Lisbon opened the door, a curly blond head was the first thing she caught sight of on the other side. Every trace of irritation left her face and a bright smile found its way onto her lips instead.

* * *

"I told you to go ahead, Jane," she scolded him very half-heartedly.

"And I decided against your suggestion, Lisbon." He grinned.

"It wasn't a suggestion."

"Oh? What else could it have possibly been? You enjoying the sound of your own voice maybe?" he teased.

She slapped his shoulder. "Idiot."

They made their way to the lift. As they were alone inside Patrick dared to ask. "What was that all about, Teresa? You're not sick or something, are you?" A bit of worry was visible on his face.

"No, Patrick. Just some girl-stuff." She blushed a bit once more.

"Girl-stuff?" He raised his brows.

She nodded with a defiant glint in her eyes.

"Lisbon? If you lie to me, please try at least to be convincing. You don't do girl-stuff. So what is it?" he inquired, curiosity shining from his face.

She groaned. "You won't leave this be, will you?"

"Nope."

She nodded. "Thought so. Well actually, I do girl-stuff… kind of. With you as a matter of fact, Jane," she said and sullenly handed him a piece of paper she'd pulled out of her pocket.

His eyes widened. "Ah… You know, you could've just told me. I guess it's safe to say that we are in this together. Sorry for the bad pun." He smiled at her warmly and she couldn't help but snicker. His expression turned very intent. "I love you, Teresa. And if I didn't still have that long-dead hamster hidden somewhere in the back of my mouth, I'd kiss you silly now."

She laughed out loud. "Oh my god, how am I supposed to get that picture out of my head ever again? A dead hamster? Really, Jane."

"Not that I would know from personal experience, but I do imagine it would taste approximately like this," he said with a very serious face.

She looked thoroughly disgusted now. "I'm not sure I'm ever gonna kiss you again, Jane. That's just gross."

"I fully understand that. And you are just the one thinking about it. Imagine to be the one actually carrying that corpse in your mouth." He chuckled at her expression. "Don't worry. I'll go and brush my teeth as soon as we reach the bullpen. I have a toothbrush in my desk." After a short moment of contemplation he added. "Or maybe I should do my first interview with Keen very close up before I do? Would that be considered torture, Agent Lisbon?"

They had reached their destination and left the lift. On their way to the bullpen they continued their banter.

She rolled her eyes. "You will brush your teeth at once, Jane. That's an order. I even have some mouthwash stashed somewhere I think. You can borrow it."

"Are you really sure you'll want it back, after it's been in contact with this?" He pointed at his mouth.

"Jane! Stop being so disgusting. Honestly," she huffed.

He snickered with obvious mirth, when she pulled another nauseated face. "I never expected you to be so squeamish, Lisbon."

"I'm not squeamish, Jane," she protested, just as they entered the open office area.

"Yes you are."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"You're certainly both childish," Cho deadpanned.

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a wordless conversation with their eyes only and then said as one. "We are not."

Rigsby and Van Pelt grinned at that and even Cho couldn't help but lift one corner of his mouth in a nearly there smile.

"Where's Keen and who's keeping watch?" Lisbon inquired ending the fun and getting back to business.

"Interrogation room 1, Walters and Taylor are both watching him. We have been taking turns checking up on him every five minutes as well," Cho reported.

"Very good. Continue with it. Jane and I will have a little chat with him in a few minutes. But our consultant here has to get rid of a dead animal first," Lisbon said a small smile playing on her lips.

* * *

**TBC**

**Today the sun made an appearance after weeks of hiding behind a gray sky and I enjoyed a nice, long walk. My mood's VERY improved... and you can make me even happier with a little review...**


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the team cast them a skeptical look. Jane went to his seldom used desk, opened the drawer and got out both a toothbrush and paste. Seeing this, Van Palt shot him a knowing and compassionate glance. Teresa had gone to her office and returned again holding out a bottle with some neon blue liquid in it. Patrick grabbed it, just nodded his thanks and went in the direction of the men's room.

At the questioning expressions on the faces of her two male agents she just said. "Don't ask." Afterwards she went to the break room and started to prepare some coffee for herself and tea for Jane.

Grace followed her inside. "How's he doing, boss?" she asked carefully.

"He's doing alright all things considered. Thank you for being such a good friend, Van Pelt."

The young woman looked at her with a small cautious smile. "He is… I mean, we're family."

Teresa acknowledged her words with a friendly nod. "Grace? I need you to do me a favor."

Her youngest team member looked up eagerly at the prospect of doing something important.

Lisbon looked behind her and made sure there was no one around to overhear them. "It's about those hairs. I need you to take them to the lab and make them do a thorough analysis. Tell them it's some last minute evidence from the Fisher-case. It's going to court soon, so it's urgent. Can you do that?"

"Of course, boss. I understand."

Teresa handed her one of the evidence bags. "Thank you Agent," she said seriously.

"Am I interrupting something illicit?" a husky voice asked from behind them.

Both Van Pelt and Lisbon flinched violently, their heartbeats went up by a dozen. Then they heard a familiar chuckle.

"God Jane! Don't do that. I hate it when you sneak up on me like that," Lisbon exclaimed angrily. "This isn't the least bit funny," she huffed.

"Ah come on, Lisbon. You should have seen your faces. Hilarious," Patrick declared grinning with delight.

"Well, I don't see anyone else laughing," she replied with a frown.

His face fell. "What's this all about, Lisbon? I didn't mean to make you angry. I just wanted to lighten the mood a bit. I'm sorry if I somehow offended you and Grace."

He turned to leave the break room, but she caught his arm and stopped him. "Wait, Jane. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just," she looked around again making sure they were alone, "this was about you-know-what and I really didn't want someone else to witness it. The fact that you managed to sneak up on us like that just brought home the realization that we're not exactly safe here. Sorry for taking it out on you."

Jane nodded seriously. "I understand. This is a rather delicate situation." Then his eyes showed some mirth again. "And here I thought I'm already doing things with all the bells and whistles… obviously, I have to cause a real racket to be noticed…"

"Don't you dare, Jane! Anymore of your racket and it will be total bedlam. I'm not sure, we'd survive that," Teresa replied with a fond smile while Van Pelt couldn't quell a snicker.

"I'll be off to the lab then, boss," she said, getting a handle on her glee again.

"Thank you, Grace," Lisbon answered kindly and the young woman left. Teresa turned her attention back to Jane. "Patrick, I made some tea for you. Why don't we go to my office? I want you to lie down for a while and rest before you take your turn interviewing Keen, and I'd prefer for you to be some place I can keep an eye on you."

"Alright, Teresa. But I'm fine. Don't worry too much about me," he replied softly.

* * *

They grabbed their respective drinks and walked to Lisbon's office together. On their way through the bullpen, which was almost deserted due to lunch time, they stopped shortly to ask Cho and Rigsby about any news. They'd gotten some information about their suspect from SacPD. People there were completely shocked about their officer being in league with California's most notorious serial killer. His partner Burton had taken the news especially badly. Cho added that Keen was remaining stubborn and kept taunting them whenever they checked up on him.

"We'll speak with him soon. But I want to talk a few things over with Jane first. We'll be in my office," Lisbon said in way of an explanation.

Rigsby cast her a slightly suggestive knowing look which made Jane chuckle. "Rigsby, Rigsby… Get your mind out of the gutter. We're at work and we are both professionals. Well, at least I am, and I'll make sure, your boss here doesn't succumb to my charms on duty either. Though I imagine it'll be quite the ordeal. You know, she doesn't own the slightest bit of restraint."

This earned him a punch on the shoulder from said boss, which of course spurred him on. "See, that's what I mean – absolutely no restraint."

Teresa rolled her eyes in exasperation and pulled him along to her office. "Jane, shut up or that shoulder of yours will be sporting quite a few bruises."

"Will you kiss them all better? Then it might actually be worth it…" he mock-flirted so outrageously, it caused even Cho to almost smile.

Lisbon just shook her head sporting a look of feigned despair. "I really don't know why I'm putting up with you."

"I could show you, but we ARE at work, you know…" Patrick teased.

They had nearly reached her office by now, but the last thing they could see from the bullpen was Rigsby's face turned red as a tomato. Teresa and Patrick grinned at each other.

"Laughing-fit?" she suggested with a snicker.

"Embarrassment," he said with conviction.

That's when the unthinkable happened: From Cho's direction a short but distinct giggle could be heard.

* * *

After entering her office and closing the door and the blinds, she laughed out loud and he joined in. "Did you hear that giggle?" she gasped.

"We're never going to let him live that one down, are we?" he snorted.

And then they both stopped laughing and pulled each other into a fierce embrace as if they'd arranged it beforehand. It was as if they were the other's lifeline and in a way they probably were. Jane dragged her over to the sofa, lay down and pulled her on top of himself, just holding her close. She pressed her ear to his chest listening to his reassuring heartbeat, her hands holding around his neck. He stroked her back, comforting both her and himself with the repetitive gesture.

A few minutes later Patrick broke the silence. "Do you have any idea how to go about breaking Keen?" he asked her.

"I'd guess you are gonna have the best shot. He has obviously been instructed by Red John and seems to know quite a bit about you. You should make use of that connection," she suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. I'm not sure. But it might help to test the waters, make him feel safe and all. Let him think he's in control of the situation. It could be an opener," he said deep in contemplation.

She looked up from her position on his chest and made eye-contact with him. "Are you sure you're up for it though? He will do everything in his power to rile you up with things he knows about you through Red John. It could get ugly and let's be honest, Patrick: You are not at the top of your game right now," she observed gently.

A look of determination crossed his eyes. "You are right, but I WILL persevere as long as necessary. I have to. I can do this, Teresa. I MUST do this, or I'll regret it."

She nodded but the worry was still obvious on her face.

"Maybe we could arrange a specific sign I could give you should I need a break. So we could leave without him sensing any weaknesses," he suggested a moment later. "It would actually make me feel better as well, knowing that I have an out. I don't expect to need it, but..."

She caressed his cheek. "That's a good idea, Patrick. That way it would at least feel like we don't go into this without any kind of plan. What kind of sign do you have in mind?"

"It depends on how we're going to position ourselves during the interview. I suggest that I'll sit beside Keen, and you in front of us. That way you can watch both him and me. Furthermore, it'll give me the advantage of proximity and him the delusion of some kind of camaraderie between us. He'll assume he has all the advantage which of course automatically puts him at a disadvantage." He paused a moment to think things through before he added. "And I can initiate body contact with him as well if need be. Touching his leg with mine could give me quite a few insights. It depends on how well he's been trained. We'll just have to find out."

Lisbon sported a thoughtful expression when she answered. "Yeah, I agree with most of what you say, but you still haven't said anything about our prearranged sign."

"Ah, yes. Well, it has to be something I wouldn't normally do but which is still inconspicuous enough to look natural or random. Mhm. Maybe rather a verbal signal." Patrick paused, a look of deep concentration on his face. "The tea should have steeped enough now," he finally said.

"What?" she asked baffled.

"That should be harmless enough and in character for me as well. And it's certainly not something I would normally say during an interrogation. And even if he took it as the coded message it is, he'll probably apply it to himself. I expect him to be sufficiently ego-centric. What do you think?" he explained.

"Your logic seems sound enough, though the phrase appears rather inane during an interview," she answered.

"That's the whole point, Lisbon. It could imply that I simply want to take a break and have a cuppa. Which wouldn't be too far from the truth. But it could also mean that we want to let him stew some more and are leaving because of that." He looked lost in thought. "Or it could point him to some other imagined prearranged action we're about to commit. He could even think I'm up to something particularily nefarious."

With a satisfied grin he went on, "If Red John has instructed him about me, he'll know I'm capable of doing things outside the book after all." At that he remembered the Panzer-case, which left him with mixed feelings, but he continued with his train of thought anyway. "So essentially it will keep him on his toes and give us the chance to leave without it coming across as weakness. He will at least sit there with a deep sense of doubt about what's really going on," he elaborated.

She sighed. "You know, on the one hand it's nice to be let in on your reasoning for once, but sometimes it's scary to watch how you mind works, Jane. It's like you're playing three games of chess against the same opponent simultaneously."

He chuckled. "See, that's why I don't share all my hunches and considerations with you and rather confront you with my ready schemes as late as possible in the process. I save you a lot of headaches that way."

"Yeah I'm sure that's the reason," she said sarcastically. "Unfortunately, your schemes tend to cause me double the headaches afterwards, when you've ruffled the feathers of yet another judge or senator or broken some major rule, which ultimately always generates additional paperwork for ME. So I'm sorry to say it, but my gratitude is rather limited."

He propped himself up a bit, smiled angelically at her and said. "Who, me? Causing trouble? I couldn't possibly do something like that, could I? Look at me. I'm almost a cherub, really. You know my hair isn't actually blond, it's just the halo giving it the appearance."

"Love you, imp," she snickered before pressing her lips firmly to his grinning ones.

He allowed her to deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling back so he could keep control of the arousal that had hit him the second she'd started. "And I love you," he answered hoarsely being slightly breathless.

"What do you say? Shall we go and break one measly stooge?" Teresa asked after they'd both calmed down again after their heated jiffy.

He nodded though he couldn't quite shake of the feeling of unease. She sensed it and took his face between her hands looking into his eyes intensely. "You'll be fine, Patrick. I have full trust in you." At his disbelieving look she added. "Well in this instance at least."

He grinned.

* * *

They got up from her office couch, finished their slightly cooled down drinks and left the room.

"Boss? The suspect has asked for some tea. What do you want us to do?" Rigsby inquired when they passed his desk.

Jane answered instead, "I'll fix him a cup if that's alright with you, Lisbon."

"Sure, go ahead. I'll meet you at the door of the interview room in five."

Patrick went to the break room while Teresa stayed with the rest of her team. "Van Pelt, I assume everything went well down at the lab?"

"Yes boss. I told them to just send us the results and leave all further research to us. Said that I knew how stretched their resources are and that we could do all the necessary reconciliations with the databases. They bought it hook, line and sinker and were very appreciative of my consideration," the young woman explained with a proud little smile.

"Good thinking, Grace. Thanks." Lisbon cast her an approving look.

Rigsby and Cho wore questioning expressions but kept their mouths shut. The long years of working together so closely had taught them that whenever their boss kept information from them, she had damn good reasons for it. She would tell them when they needed to know. Since this was a Red John case, the secrecy didn't surprise them too much. His latest victim being the father of one of their own made the situation extra delicate, so even Wayne understood at once how precarious this was.

Jane had been a total pain in the butt on many occasions and sometimes both male agents weren't sure whether they liked or loathed him, but at the end of the day he was still their friend. And he was a good man, even though he did nearly everything in his power to hide that fact. The three younger agents had discussed their consultant amongst themselves repeatedly and had come to the conclusion that they quite honestly didn't know enough about him to fully understand his sometimes completely absurd behavior, but there must be valid reasons for it.

He had shown his affection for them through small but significant gestures quite often over the years, sometimes very covertly so as not to be identified as the person responsible. But they had started to compare notes years ago and by now, they knew it had to be Jane who left small gifts for them on occasion or did something kind and thoughtful for them. And with him being as perceptive as he was, he always seemed to know when one of them really needed a cheer-up. So Red John killing his father was an attack on their little family as well. And they were willing to do whatever was required to help. Even if it meant being left in the dark about certain details.

Lisbon sent them an apologetic glance and left the bullpen in the direction of the interrogation rooms.

Jane was already standing outside with a cup in hand. "Shall we?" he asked.

Lisbon nodded casting a friendly look at the two officers guarding the room. One of them opened the door and the Senior Agent entered with her consultant.

* * *

**TBC**

**So, next up will be the first inteview with Keen. Will they get closer to Red John this time?**

**All reviews are appreciated - so please drop me a line.**


	17. Chapter 17

"Ah Patrick. Finally. I was getting really bored with only Wayne and Kimball visiting. And you brought me tea, too. How very considerate. I can only hope that you were the one who actually prepared it as well," Keen scoffed.

Jane went over to the table without a word, sat down the tea in front of the SacPD Officer and pulled a chair up to sit beside the mole. Lisbon took a seat on the other side of the table.

"No friendly greeting for an old friend, Patrick? I'm wounded," Keen mocked. "May I call you Patrick? I've heard so much about you over the years, you are almost like family." He patted Jane's arm. "Imagine my utter delight when I was called to the carnival on Sunday to assist and finally meet you in person. Red John was so joyous when I told him about our encounter. And hearing about you being so close to our dear Teresa here. Splendid. He was very happy about the good news."

Patrick who'd remained silent so far spoke up now because he didn't expect the creep to offer even more information for free. "You may call me Patrick, no problem, if you allow me to call you Little John," he said in a neutral tone.

"What? No. My given name is David," Keen answered, irritation visible on his face.

"Oh, I'm aware of that, Little John. It's in your file after all. But I've decided to ignore that. Guess you have to live with it or address me with more respect as well. Your choice."

"You bastard. I'm not some underling. Red John's my friend," the mole huffed.

Jane chuckled evilly. "Red John doesn't have friends, Little John. He has minions, tools to do his dirty work. Deep down you already know that. You practically said as much yourself back at the prison. I know this situation is putting a strain on you, especially since the only thing keeping you alive is our enhanced security measures. But I assure you, if you cooperate with us, we'll offer as much clemency and protection as possible. Once again, it's your choice, Little John."

"Stop calling me that. And I'll never betray my friend. You have nothing to offer me."

This time, it was Jane who patted Keen's arm. "On the contrary. As I said, this is all about choices. Before, being in Red John's pocket, you didn't have any, isn't that right? The choices were made for you by your Master. How very convenient for a spineless creature like you. Or do you have a spine hidden somewhere?" He leaned back a little and cast a joking glance down Keen's back. "One that tells you that this could be a way out, a chance to start over as someone autonomous? What will it be, Little John?" he inquired with a luring voice.

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm my own man. You know nothing about me, Jane. You won't get to me with your manipulations. But I know a lot about you. My friend told me all about you," Keen said, with triumph in his tone. But Patrick could still see the insecurity and fear in his eyes.

"I'm sure I make a very amusing topic for conversation in the parlor of sick psychopaths. Alas, I know even more about myself and have no further need to discuss myself with you. Incidentally, I do know enough about you as well. At least all I need to know. Care to hear it?" he asked. Keen nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly, and Patrick started a cold reading after grabbing their suspect's wrist. "You're the middle son of a middle class family. You are slightly more intelligent than your siblings but, being the in-between-child, no one really noticed."

He cast the other man a pitying look. "You have a constant need to prove yourself, but no one takes notice of your accomplishments. Well, no one did until you met Red John. You had gotten through the Police Academy with performance levels slightly above average, got a job here in Sacramento at once. Being so utterly unexceptional however, you didn't advance through the ranks, whereas your colleagues did a lot better even though their academic merits had been beneath yours. This rankled you very much, so when Red John approached you, identifying you as the weak link in SacPD at once, you felt you finally got the recognition you deserved. How am I doing so far?"

"It's not true. He saw that I was completely undervalued at SacPD. No one there was willing to see what I was worth. Red John did. He recognized my skills because he is an excellent judge of character," Keen objected stubbornly.

"Ah, so I'm right on all accounts then. Thought so," Jane stated. Looking over to Teresa he added. "I don't have any further questions for Little John here. I'm afraid he'll not reveal anything useful, though this would have been his one chance to do something remarkable for once. Guess, he just doesn't have it in him. He's boring me, Lisbon. Let's leave." He got up from his chair and Lisbon followed his example.

"Wait, stop! You can't just leave me like that. I have lots to say," Keen chimed in desperately.

"Somehow I doubt that. Goodbye, Little John," Jane said indifferently, stepping away from the table.

"No. You have to stay, Patrick. I… I do know things you'll be interested in," Red John's disciple promised.

The consultant continued walking over to the door, casting an utterly bored backwards glance at the other man. "Maybe, maybe not. I don't care. This is just too tedious to hold my interest. I have better things to do with my time. I'm dying for a cup of tea for example."

With this parting shot Jane left the room followed closely by Lisbon to the indignant shouts of Keen asking them to stay. The consultant made a beeline for the breakroom casting a questioning look at the Senior Agent. She nodded and went on to her office knowing he would be by in a few minutes with coffee for her and tea for himself.

* * *

Teresa settled behind her desk and contemplated the interview she'd just witnessed. It had been a promising start. Patrick had managed to prevent their suspect from getting personal and hurtful. Instead he had played Red John's minion, prying open his weak points. There was a certain possibility he would sing after a bit more stewing. There were no guarantees of course, but the groundwork had been laid. She was proud of her consultant. Considering the circumstances, he'd done one hell of a job during that little talk. He'd been completely cool and collected, shown no sign of agitation or discomfort. On the contrary, if she hadn't known him so well, even she would have bought his complete indifference.

A knock on the frame of her open door interrupted her thoughts. Her second in command poked in. "Hey, Cho, come in. Anything new?"

"Actually yes. But Van Pelt will tell you. She was the one to find out. I just wanted to ask how the interview went. I just saw Jane and he looked alright, so I guess it wasn't a total disaster."

Lisbon nodded. "It went as well as can be expected so early in the game. It certainly seemed like Jane got to him."

"Good," Cho said in his typical laconic way and turned to leave her office again.

At that moment Jane entered carrying one mug and his usual tea cup. "Hi Cho," he greeted his team mate in passing and went directly over to Lisbon and set down her coffee in front of her.

"I'm sending in Van Pelt now, if that's alright," Cho said from the door.

"Give us five minutes," Lisbon replied and the other agent nodded.

Jane took a seat in the visitor chair and gazed at her with a guarded expression. "What do you make of Keen?" he asked her.

"What do YOU think, Patrick?" She cradled the mug between her hands, enjoying the warmth before taking a sip.

"I think that if I were Red John, I'd make sure to send an assassin as soon as possible. That man is weak minded. I have no doubt I'll be able to break him," Jane answered full of conviction.

She nodded. "I'll make sure security is tight as possible."

"Might not be enough, but we'll have to hope. Considering what happened with Johnson, I doubt he's really safe any place."

"Well, we had Lorelei here for a few days and nothing happened. So maybe this will work out." Lisbon tried to be optimistic to reassure him.

"He knew it would take a lot to turn her. There was simply no hurry. But with Keen? He's a real liability, Lisbon. And he has known Red John personally for years." He sat thoughtful for a moment and took a slow sip of tea. "Anyway, we can't do anything at the moment." He returned the cup to its saucer and smiled at her cockily. "I can break him no problem, but it will take some time. It'll do him good to brood right now."

She cast him an admonishing look. "Don't get all big-headed, Jane. If you get your hopes up too high, you'll just fall deeper should something bad happen."

His smile fell a little. "Yes, I know. Things always seem to fall apart where Red John is concerned. And I won't rush this and risk losing my chance with Keen just because I'm afraid he'll be killed in our custody. It is a strong possibility, I'm aware of that."

"Good. As long as you keep that in mind…" she trailed off as Van Pelt entered her office and closed the door.

"Boss? Cho said you had time for me now?" the young woman asked carefully.

Jane got up from his chair and motioned for her to sit down there while he went over to the sofa taking along his tea.

"Yes, go ahead, Grace," Lisbon encouraged her.

She cast her boss an insecure look and said, tentatively, "I'm not sure Jane should be present for this."

Patrick set his tea on the side table and got up again with a highly irritated expression on his face. Teresa sighed. "What is it, Van Pelt? I'd much rather we avoided another disaster like the one this morning keeping him out of the loop."

Grace looked very uncomfortable and cast an apologetic glance in Jane's direction. "It's about Alex Jane's family. I searched the database to find out if there's anybody else we should inform about his demise," she explained.

Patrick stopped his retreat, glaring at her angrily. "And what the hell makes you think that doesn't concern me?" he asked.

"I just thought that, well, it somehow might be… I don't know… a sour spot maybe? I mean, you never talk about your relatives and… and you've already been through a lot of stress today…" she trailed off.

"That's not your decision to make," he said coldly. "Mind your own business, Agent Van Pelt."

"Stop it, the both of you. Patrick, sit down and calm yourself. Grace, don't assume things like that in the future. Let's all act like adults here, okay?"

When Lisbon was satisfied that they would follow her orders, she gestured for Grace to speak again. "Well, what did you find out about the Jane family then?"

"Well, I found out that Alex' parents are still alive. They live in San Francisco as a matter of fact. His mother worked as a musician, his father is a retired psychiatrist." Jane uttered an ugly chuckle at that point. "And gathering from the records, Alexander has a younger brother named Matthew who's a district attorney in San Jose. He's fifty-two and has a wife and two children," Van Pelt told them.

Lisbon's eyebrows had nearly disappeared behind her bangs. "Wow, and here I thought your family were all carnies, Jane."

"And I thought I didn't have any at all," Patrick said silently, a sad look crossing his face.

"You didn't even know they existed?" Teresa asked him in astonishment.

He shook his head. "Alex always told me his parents died in some accident. Said he'd joined the carnival because he had to provide for himself from a young age because they hadn't left him anything. Guess it was rather stupid of me to never doubt his words, but I honestly had no idea," Jane explained. With a deep sigh he leant against the back of the couch. "Well, on a positive note: looks like I'll be spared the duty of arranging his funeral after all."

Lisbon spoke up again at that point. "Grace, do you have an address of the parents?"

"Yes boss. It's all in here." She handed over a folder.

"Jane? You and I will take a trip to San Fran now. We'll grab some late lunch on the way. Come on." Lisbon got up purposefully.

Patrick looked at her with apprehension. "I don't know that's a good idea. They never… I mean… they don't… I doubt they'd want to meet… I… No," he stammered in a way so uncharacteristic for him, both Lisbon and Van Pelt stared at him disbelievingly.

"Of course, they want to meet you, Patrick. Why wouldn't they?" She straightened her blazer and picked up the folder Van Pelt had given her. "They probably don't know about your existence either. I think it's a splendid idea. I have to tell them that their son is dead, but at least I can offer them a grandson instead. One they can actually be proud of." She'd walked over to him and underlined her words, gently caressing his cheek. "I'm sure, they'll be delighted to meet you. Come on, love. You have nothing to lose after all, do you?" She tried to encourage him.

He got up hesitantly. "I'm still not sure about this, but alright. I'll come with you."

* * *

In the car, Teresa handed him the folder containing the information about his family and started the vehicle. He stared at the sheets in front of him with some distress before he could bring himself to take a real look.

"Elisa Dorothy and Jonathan Alexander Jane. Both aged 84. Two children, Alexander James Jane aged 62 and Matthew Charles Jane aged 52, married, two children, Mary Elisa Jane aged 15, and Paul Ethan Jane aged 13. Geez, I have an uncle and two cousins, I'll be damned." He shook his head in wonder. "He told me he was an only child. What a liar. And I'm not even in this record. Why?"

Lisbon pondered on that for some time. "It's strange. But maybe you weren't registered through the right channels being born like that. I don't know. But we can try to find out later, Patrick." She gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Baffled. And nervous I guess. Don't know what to expect after all." A moment later he added quietly, "I kind of always wanted to have a family, but right now, I don't know what to think…"

She nodded understandingly.

A while later they got some burgers at a drive-in and ate in the car mostly keeping a pensive silence. They reached San Francisco about two hours after they'd left the CBI and Lisbon steered them to the last known address of the Jane family.

"Maybe it would be best if you went in alone first, Lisbon. You know, so they have time to absorb the shock," Patrick suggested.

She nodded but glanced at him with a skeptical look. "But you're not trying to run away from this, are you?"

His innocent expression didn't reassure her in the least. "Please, Patrick. Don't be a coward. This could turn out to be a really good thing for you. And you don't have to face this alone. Promise me you'll give this an honest try."

"Alright Teresa. If you insist. I just don't expect any open arms. Considering that Alex denied their very existence I assume their relationship can't have been a good one. And I'm his son. They'll probably hate me on sight. I'm just trying to stay realistic. A wise woman told me today, that I shouldn't keep my hopes too high or the fall would be deep," Patrick told her warily.

She bent towards him and their lips met in a sweet kiss. "They'd be idiots if they didn't like you," she said defiantly a moment later.

"Well, go in and find out then," he prompted and she left the car and walked over to the house. She knocked on the door and a minute later it was opened by a gray-haired man. Jane watched as Lisbon showed him her badge and was invited inside.

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: I do hope that the decline in reviews for the last chapters doesn't indicate people losing their interest in the story. Maybe it was simply caused by the fact that the last two chapters didn't contain much new development. We'll see... Maybe I could surprise you with this one. Feel free to let me know.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Warning: Things are getting a bit angsty...**

* * *

Teresa was greeted at the door by a smiling man who seemingly bore his age well. "How can I help you, Miss?" he asked.

"I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon from the CBI." She showed him her badge. "May I come in? I have some information for you about your son Alexander. You are Jonathan Jane, aren't you?"

"Oh," the old man said, "Yes, I'm Jonathan Jane. Do come in, Agent." He motioned for her to follow him while continuing to speak, "but I haven't heard anything from my son in over forty years."

They'd reached the living room where a kind-looking woman sat in an armchair observing their approach with wakeful, inquiring eyes – eyes Lisbon knew all too well from the face of the man she loved. "You are here about Alexander?" Patrick's grandmother asked.

Teresa went over to her and extended her hand in greeting. "Yes ma'am."

The handshake was strong and warm.

"Why don't you take a seat, dear? I'm Elisa, by the way. Jonathan will make us some tea. Won't you, darling?" Her husband nodded and left for the kitchen. "I would do it myself, but I sprained my ankle last week. I overestimated my soccer skills I'm afraid, playing with my grandson." She chuckled.

The mischievous expression accompanying the explanation reminded Lisbon eerily of her consultant. She'd often read about certain family characteristics jumping over a generation and here, she seemed to have proof. Maybe Patrick hadn't inherited all of his looks from his mother. This woman looked a lot like him in fact, though her hair was straight and Lisbon assumed that it used to be dark before it had grayed with age.

"So what is it you want to tell us about our son?" she asked with a piercing look.

"Shouldn't we wait for your husband?" Lisbon suggested having taken a seat on the sofa and facing the old lady with a warm smile.

"Oh, he has excellent hearing. I'm sure he'll understand everything perfectly, won't you, darling?"

A voice from down the hall answered, "Yes yes. Just start, Agent. I'll be with you in a minute anyway."

"Alright. I'm afraid I've come with bad news. Your son Alexander was murdered last night. I'm truly sorry for your loss," Lisbon told them kindly.

Elisa Jane sighed but seemed to take in the news with countenance. "I can't say I'm too shocked. I didn't even know whether he was still alive or not as a matter of fact. And considering his, well, disposition, if you want, I'm actually surprised it didn't happen earlier. Can you tell us some details? Did he get mixed up in something serious?"

Jonathan returned with a tea service at that point. He sat it down on the coffee table and fixed a cup for each of them. Lisbon observed that he took great care to add the milk first and had to smile covertly. This was her consultant's family alright, she thought.

When they'd all settled down with their beverages, the Janes looked at her questioningly.

"Yes. Details. Well, this might all come as a shock and it's a rather long and complicated story, but I'll try to tell you as clearly as possible. Don't hesitate to interrupt me if there's something you don't understand." And with that, Teresa proceeded to tell them an abbreviated version of the whole tale about their grandson, Red John, and Patrick's involvement with the CBI. The old couple interrupted her several times, asking for details and inquiring about their grandson, their faces turning more and more worried and compassionate the more information they got.

When Lisbon had finished her summing-up, Elisa spoke up, "Do I get it right? We have a grandson, who happens to be your colleague and who lost his wife and child, our great-grandchild, to a serial killer? And he used to be a fake psychic?"

Lisbon nodded.

"Jonathan! Don't you remember? We saw him on TV. And we read about the murder. We didn't connect the dots, but it actually touched us a lot, because he shared our last name," the old lady cried out. "That was our grandchild!"

Her husband who sat on the sofa close to her, took hold of her hand. "Yes, I remember. We talked about it a lot. I am a psychiatrist and I often contemplated what such an awful event might do to a young man and whether the poor guy had gotten the right support afterwards. We should have… I mean, I never imagined Alex would become a father. God, we might have actually been able to help our grandson. We had no idea, Agent." He looked very distraught. "And that same killer murdered our son as well now? To spite our grandchild?"

"Well, yes. In a way. But it wasn't just to spite him, I'm afraid. Over the years of their cat-and-mouse-game, Red John's become unnaturally obsessed with your grandson. In his sick, psychopathic mind he considers him as some kind of friend. And what I haven't told you yet is that Alexander attacked my consultant with a knife three days ago. He was a very abusive father, unfortunately." She had to pause because the elderly couple showed signs of obvious distress at these news. But soon enough Elisa motioned for her to continue. "Well, part of the reason that serial killer murdered Alexander was to avenge that knife-attack on your grandson. I'm sure you know that Red John usually uses knives as well. He didn't take kindly to someone poaching in his hunting preserve, so to speak. He left a letter clarifying that."

The Janes had intertwined their hands and looked at her with deeply perturbed expressions. Elisa broke the silence. "This is so awful! The poor boy. How is he?"

"He is a very strong man, ma'am. He is doing as well as can be expected," Teresa reassured her.

The old lady released a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear. You are close to him, aren't you? I watched your eyes while you talked about him. Are you in love with my grandson, Agent Lisbon?"

Teresa blushed forcefully and mumbled, "Now I know where he got his damn perceptiveness from."

Elisa smiled at her kindly. "No reason to be ashamed, dear. I'm glad he has someone in his life. It doesn't sound as if he's been spoiled with happiness."

"No, he hasn't," Lisbon admitted silently. "But he's a remarkable man. Strong, kind. Even though he's damaged and complicated. I love him very much." Her blush intensified again.

Jonathan chimed in at that moment. "What's his name? You haven't given us his name yet. And I'm afraid I can't remember it from TV."

"His name is Patrick. Patrick Alexander Jane. Would you like to meet him?" Teresa asked.

"We would love to!" Elisa said, and her husband nodded eagerly.

Lisbon smiled with relief. "He's waiting outside in the car," she said.

"What? He's here? Why didn't he come in with you?" Elisa asked with astonishment.

"I'm afraid he isn't the most self-assured man, and considering the circumstances, he wasn't sure you would want to meet him. Partly because of being his father's son and he assumed that you didn't have the best relationship with him. But to be honest, I think it's mostly because he's afraid he won't measure up. But don't tell him I said that," Teresa explained.

"Well, go get him. I want to take a look at my grandson now," Elisa ordered.

Teresa got up and Jonathan followed her to the door. "I'll wait here for you to return with him. I think I might have a good idea about his state of mind after what you've told us. Remember, I'm a psychiatrist. We'll tread carefully with him, so don't worry. My wife might appear a bit rash, but she's very considerate when it counts." He gave her shoulder a comforting pat.

* * *

Lisbon smiled at the kind gesture and went to her car. She was extremely relieved the meeting with the Janes had gone so well. They were lovely people and she was sure they'd welcome their grandson with open arms. A feeling of happiness filled her.

When she was closer, Patrick opened the door and looked at her expectantly. "Well? How did it go? You seem, dare I say it, elated."

She bent down and kissed him. "Yes, that just about covers it. Get out of the car. You have some grandparents to meet, imp," she said afterwards.

He looked at her doubtfully. "Do you really think it's the best of times for this? They just heard about their son's murder and I presume they also know it's partly my fault he's dead."

"Not that nonsense again, Jane. Stop it. They insisted I should go and get you. They are ecstatic to meet you. And believe me, your grandmother is a very demanding and feisty old lady. I'm not willing to ruffle her feathers. Come on. Don't make me call you a wimp again," she threatened.

Patrick got out of the car with great reluctance. Teresa had hardly ever seen him so insecure before. She could even notice his hands shaking slightly, though he made a big effort to rein in his emotions. He stood before her with sad eyes and asked, "Are you sure? I'm not… I mean… They'll be disappointed. Maybe it's better to just leave, Lisbon. So they can keep their illusion that I'm… you know… someone worthy, not such a… a…" He stopped talking.

She pulled him into a hug. "Oh Patrick. Don't talk about yourself like that. They are gonna love you, I'm sure of it. Please believe me. They are very anxious to meet you. Give it a chance, please." She released him and grabbed his hand instead, pulling him to the house. He followed her on unsteady legs.

* * *

They were greeted at the open door by Patrick's grandfather. "Hello son," he said warmly, looking the younger man straight in the eyes. Long years as a therapist made him recognize at once that his grandson only pretended to be collected. Other than that, he was delighted to see that the young man had inherited his wife's eyes. He grabbed Patrick's hand gently and squeezed it for a moment in a reassuring way. "I'm Jonathan. Come on in. Your grandmother has probably reached the end of her patience by now. She wants to meet you so much."

Patrick just nodded feeling completely tongue-tied. He followed his grandfather into the living room where the keen old lady awaited them. Elisa Jane had even gotten up from her armchair ignoring her hurting food. She wanted to take in her newfound grandchild standing up.

When the curly blond man entered, she exclaimed, "My, aren't you a handsome one! Come here, Patrick. Let me take a closer look at you."

Reluctantly the CBI consultant complied. "Don't be shy. I won't bite you, dear." She retook her seat in the armchair and patted the spot on the sofa closest to her, "Sit down with me. Please excuse my discourtesy. I'm not allowed to stand up for too long. Doctor's orders. Complete overreaction of course, but your grandfather insists… It's just a sprained ankle. One would think I was on my deathbed with how they behave," she mock-huffed.

She'd taken in the situation at once. Her grandson seemed to be on the verge of bunking, fear and insecurity clearly visible to her keen sense of observation though she had to compliment him on his effort concealing it. A bit of meaningless ramble might just do the trick and calm the young man. She seemed to succeed because a small, mischievous smile had found its way on his lips.

"Well, Patrick. How about a cup of tea? Jonathan was just about to make another pot. I hope you like tea. We're not much of coffee-drinkers in this family." She smiled at him warmly while her husband took the empty pot and left the room.

"I… actually… I certainly wouldn't mind a cup," he managed to say. "I love tea," he added quietly. "Always have."

"You are a Jane alright, my boy." She patted his thigh gently. "Welcome to the family."

The two women still present in the room saw that Patrick fought to keep back tears.

"Teresa, dear, why don't you come and sit with us? There's enough space for you on the sofa," Elisa said, intending to deflect the situation and give her grandson time to compose himself.

"So, I hear that you work with the police, Patrick. But as far as I understand it, you're not a cop. What's your job exactly?" she inquired curiously, hoping to ease him into a conversation.

He looked up and really gazed at his grandmother for the first time. Both gasped a bit when they realized just how similar their eyes were.

"I'm a consultant. I guess I'm rather good at spotting things," he explained shyly.

Elisa snorted. "Somehow I think there's quite a bit more to it. Come on, my boy. Give your poor grandma the juicy details."

Patrick couldn't suppress a light chuckle. He had decided right from the start that he really liked that woman. She was very perceptive and he presumed her keen mind could easily challenge him. Besides, she seemed to possess a sense of humor he could relate to perfectly. And she exuded genuine warmth.

It was hard to believe that this was actually his father's mother. But somehow they'd grown apart so much, they'd severed all ties, and that made him wary. She might renounce him as well, when he didn't manage to measure up, and chances were high he wouldn't. He wasn't someone to be proud of after all. This was a highly educated family and he didn't even have a high school diploma. Had grown up amongst carnies instead. Furthermore, he'd made his living conning people most of his life. He certainly didn't qualify as a member of this kin. And he was very afraid they'd show him to the door the minute they learnt more about him. Best to keep his cards close to his chest, he decided. The less he revealed, the longer he could pretend to be a welcome addition to this family.

"There isn't much to say, really. I just help the police on occasion. Nothing special," he said vaguely.

Now it was Lisbon's turn to snort. "That's the biggest piece of rubbish I've heard from you in a long time," she chided him. "Why don't you tell Elisa what you really do?"

Patrick glared at her angrily. "Butt out, Lisbon," he hissed.

"Now, now, my dear," his grandmother said, patting his thigh again. "No need to fight. I don't know why you're so reluctant to tell me, but maybe you'll be more comfortable about it the next time we meet."

"The next time?" he asked with honest astonishment. "You want there to be a next time?"

At that moment Jonathan returned with the tea pot and a fresh cup for Patrick. "Why certainly we want a next time. What kind of question is that? We just found out we have another grandson. Of course we want to get to know him. You're family. You won't get rid of us that easily," he said with a warm smile. Deep down he was worried however. This was one troubled man for sure, he thought. Remembering Agent Lisbon's words from earlier about Patrick being afraid of not being worthy, he concluded that his reluctance to share details about himself was caused by his fear of rejection. One look at his wife confirmed that she'd come to the same conclusion.

"Here, have a spot of tea and let's talk about something else, shall we? Did you know you have an uncle and two cousins? How about I show you some pictures?" The retired psychiatrist stepped in to save the situation.

The youngest Jane nodded his consent to both the drink and the change of topic. Jonathan prepared a cup of tea for him, then went over to the bookshelf and returned with a photo album. He sat down on the couch between Teresa and Patrick and opened the book. The next hour was spent looking at pictures and Elisa and Jonathan entertaining them with stories about the rest of the family. The consultant relaxed more and more and soaked up all the information he could about his newfound family. This was such an alien feeling for him, knowing that there were people around who he was related to, he hadn't quite managed to comprehend it all. Suddenly he felt a bit overwhelmed and decided he needed a moment to compose himself. He asked for the bathroom and was sent upstairs by his grandfather.

"Second door on the right," the old man explained.

Patrick nodded and left the room.

* * *

When he was deemed out of hearing range, Jonathan addressed Teresa quietly. "You didn't exaggerate. He's really insecure, the poor lad."

She confirmed this with a nod.

"Is there a way we could ease his mind a bit? It seems like he expects us to throw him out any minute," Elisa asked her.

Lisbon contemplated the question for a moment. "I don't know, really," she finally said. "The last few days have been exceptionally taxing for him. He isn't always that apprehensive. Just give him time and show him that you truly want him in your life." She paused, glancing at them seriously. "Maybe you could tell him a bit about your discord with his father. I'm sure he's anxious to find out why he's never heard of you before. It might reassure him." She considered her next words carefully. "It depends on the situation, I guess. I mean, I don't know what happened between you and your son either," she said.

Jonathan answered, "That might be a good idea. But the tale isn't a nice one exactly. Our son just died. It would feel a bit indecent to talk ill about the dead like that." He paused shortly to ponder the situation. "On the other hand, I really want my grandson to feel comfortable around us. Our problems with Alexander shouldn't interfere with our relationship with Patrick. I've only known him for a couple of hours, but I'm quite sure that he isn't like his father. Well, maybe not entirely different either. I understood from your earlier revelations that Patrick has quite the manipulative streak and that he can be both ruthless and cruel."

He paused, not sure whether he had heard something from outside the room. The sudden slam of the entrance door confirmed this. "Damn," he exclaimed jumping up from the sofa at the same time as Teresa, both rushing to the door. Elisa shouted after them frantically, "Please get him back!"

* * *

**TBC**

**Some major Jane angst ahead... poor guy never gets a break in this fic. I'm a bit cruel, I know...**

**To keep you updated on the weather situation where I live: that damn winter has decided to be extra stubborn and has returned with full force! The temperature dropped by 20 degrees (Celsius) from one day to the next and it's been snowing constantly for two days now... Hopefully, it's the last great hurrah...**


	19. Chapter 19

**Warning: Major Jane-angst alert**

* * *

They hurried out of the house in search of Patrick. Fortunately he hadn't gotten very far. They found him sitting in the backyard leaning against a tree. His face was hidden by his hands and they could hear silent sobs.

Teresa crouched down beside him immediately, pulling him onto her chest. One hand found its way into the hair at his neck, ruffling it gently in a way she knew from recent experience, he found comforting. She whispered in his ear, "Sh, Patrick. This is just a misunderstanding. I'm sure you only heard a small part of the conversation. Please come back inside with us and give us a chance to clear this up."

He shook his head fiercely and pulled out of her hug. He forced himself to calm down with some deep breaths, enough so he would be able to speak. "No, no, no," he stammered. "Don't want to hear more. Hurts too much. I knew this would happen eventually. But I had hoped…" He glanced at her accusingly. "What the hell did you tell them about me, Lisbon? Was it… was it really necessary to… to tell them right away how disgusting I am?" He looked at her sadly. "Why couldn't you grant me at least one little visit with them?" More tears spilled from his eyes. "I thought you loved me. I don't understand. You said it would be good for me to meet them. Why did you have to ruin it like that?" he asked with a broken voice.

She tried to embrace him again, but he recoiled from her. "I didn't ruin it, Patrick. I only told them a little about your past. They had a right to know how their son died. And I most certainly didn't tell them that you are disgusting! How could I? I love you," she tried to explain herself, deeply disturbed by his retreat.

"Yeah, sure." He laughed coldly. "Ruthless? Cruel? Manipulative? Very charming picture you painted of me, albeit true of course. Can't accuse Saint Teresa of being a liar. No denying what I am after all. A conniving bastard. A fraud. A worthless failure. A creep. A wimp. And a killer - not to forget that little tidbit." His voice was acerbic with self-loathing.

Suddenly Patrick was pulled to his feet by the surprisingly strong arms of his enraged grandfather. The old man grabbed the lapels of his jacket and forced him to look at him. His eyes were almost spitting fire when he whispered dangerously, "How dare you speak like that about my grandson?"

The consultant gazed at him in a state of complete shock. And his confusion only increased when he was pulled into a fierce hug by the head of the Jane family. "No one is allowed to talk like that about my family, Patrick. No one! You'll come back inside with us now and we will sit down and discuss this calmly," he demanded. "Do I make myself clear, son?" He released him.

The younger man nodded, still unable to utter a word, caught totally off guard. His grandfather steered him back to the house with a firm hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Jonathan Jane was appalled. Truly and utterly appalled. What he had just witnessed had disturbed him greatly. Such self-hatred, such complete disregard of oneself. He had of course assumed that his grandson had problems. With a troubled past like that, it was to be expected. But this? This was deeply worrying.

They had to tread very carefully with this one. He regretted his careless words from earlier. They hadn't been meant for Patrick's ears, but still. Even if they might be true in a sense, after hearing his grandson's self-assessment, it didn't seem very plausible. The man might act ruthlessly and cruelly at times, from what he had heard, but that wasn't the same as actually being those things. Unfortunately, his own son had in fact been both unscrupulous and hideous. It hadn't been easy to accept that about his oldest child and to come to terms with most probably having a part in this development.

But his son's son wasn't like this, that was plain to see. And he truly repented hurting the boy even more. In his professional opinion, his newfound grandchild balanced precariously close to the edge of a mental break-down. They had to make sure he wouldn't fall off. His girlfriend seemed to be instrumental in this. So they had to assure Patrick that Agent Lisbon had only spoken of him with her highest regard. Which was true, by the way. Her love for him had been apparent all throughout her tale.

She had been honest about him though, something Jonathan appreciated greatly. As a scholar of the human mind, he had accepted a long time ago that to be human meant to be flawed. And to love and be loved despite that. His grandson obviously strongly believed in the first part, namely being faulty, but didn't seem to have much experience with being loved unconditionally.

He hadn't known him for long but he already felt a deep kinship with the troubled young man. It wouldn't be hard to let him into his heart. And he was sure his wife was nearly there already. Now, they just had to convince Patrick of it as well…

* * *

Lisbon followed her consultant and his resolute grandfather back into the house. Jonathan Jane's actions had surprised her, but first and foremost she felt a deep gratitude towards him. She had been at her wits' end, shocked and worried by her lover's outburst. It had shown her that the insights he'd gained about himself during the last days didn't reach very deeply. He'd fallen back into his usual pattern immediately. Maybe it had been a bit much to expect him to fully comprehend those newfound truths about himself so soon. And the recent events and his father's murder had added to his burden as well. He needed time desperately. Time to reconcile the new facts with everything he'd thought to be the truth for so long.

She suddenly doubted her earlier conviction that meeting his family could be a good thing at this point. But it was too late for such thoughts. She could only hope that her trust in the elderly Jane couple was justified. The grandfather's way of dealing with the situation had reassured her greatly and she sent a silent prayer of thanks towards heaven that Patrick's next of kin had turned out to be a capable psychiatrist and a perceptive, kind woman.

* * *

Upon entering the living room, Elisa hobbled over to her grandson immediately. She engulfed him in a hug and mumbled against his chest, "I'm so happy you came back. My husband is such an idiot at times calling you all those nasty things when we all know you're nothing like that." She released him and gave him a piercing once-over. "Help me over to the armchair, dear," she ordered firmly when she had assessed him long enough. His eyes looked incredibly sad and considering the lines around them, this had been their usual condition for a very long time.

Patrick took a gentle hold of his grandmother's arm and supported her so her injured foot didn't have to carry any weight. He led her over to her usual perch and helped her to sit down.

He stood in front of her awkwardly afterwards. "Maybe Agent Lisbon and I should just take our leave now. We've caused enough trouble for you already. I'm sorry for disrupting your peace like this, ma'am," he said meekly.

The old lady cast him a scolding look. "Nonsense. Sit down." She motioned with her head to the spot closest to her on the sofa again. "I'm far from done with you, Patrick."

He followed her instruction with reluctance but figured it wouldn't do to upset her even more.

Elisa nodded with satisfaction when her grandson had settled down beside her again. "Jonathan? I think this calls for something stronger than tea. Brandy or whisky, Patrick?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks, but I really shouldn't."

"Hogwash!" the old lady stated.

"No really. I've been taking some pain medications. I don't think mixing them with alcohol would be a good idea," Patrick explained.

"When was the last time you took something," his grandfather inquired.

"This morning. At around seven I think."

"That was almost twelve hours ago. It'll be alright for you to have a drink, son. I'm sure most of the drug has already left your body. Come on, a slug will be most soothing right now," Jonathan urged him.

Patrick sighed in resignation. Two grandparents on a mission together was obviously a force he couldn't resist. "Very well. I'll have a whisky then.

"Good boy. No use protesting." Elisa chuckled and patted his leg.

Teresa declined the offered drink as well, but her reason was deemed valid. She had to drive after all. She'd taken a seat next to Patrick again, decided to ignore her own no PDAs rule for once, and intertwined her fingers with his.

Elisa sat up a bit straighter in her armchair and turned her full attention on her grandson. "Now, would you like to hear about your father, Patrick? Or would you prefer to save this sordid tale for another time?"

He took a moment to ponder her question. "I think, I'll pass on it this time." He looked down at his lap, avoiding eye contact. "I… So many things have happened lately, I'm not sure I can take anymore right now. Sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, dear. I don't even know half of what you've been through and I'm still amazed how well you're handling yourself," his grandmother said gently.

He chuckled without humor. "Yeah, I've come across as the epitome of cool and collected, I'm sure."

His grandfather put down a glass with a stiff drink in front of him. Ignoring the sarcastic tone Patrick had used, he just answered to his actual words, "Yes, you're remarkably composed all things considered. We Janes are tough cookies, aren't we?" He winked at his grandson. "Now, bottoms up, Patrick." He held a drink of his own in his hand and downed it.

* * *

The CBI consultant decided to show more caution and only nipped at his drink. And he didn't regret this decision at all. He hummed in appreciation when he realized he had been offered a very expensive and extremely tasty whisky.

"Ah, someone with an appreciation for the finer things in life, I see," Elisa commented with a happy glint in her eyes.

"You have no idea! He's such a snob when it comes to food and drinks," Teresa chimed in with a fond smile in her lover's direction. "But to be fair, he isn't actually picky. He knows how to enjoy a simple burger as well."

Jonathan Jane had settled down in another armchair in the meantime. Now he bent a bit forward addressing his grandchild. "Patrick? I think, I owe you an apology."

The curly blond man shook his head. "No, sir. You shouldn't apologize for telling what we all know to be the truth."

"Ah, but that is the crux of the matter. It wasn't the truth. Only some hasty words and stupid jumping to conclusions I had no right to draw. It's not my usual behavior to judge someone prematurely and for that I ask for your forgiveness, son," the older Jane said earnestly.

"No, really sir. It's alright. I don't know all the details of what Agent Lisbon has told you, but I'm sure you made an informed judgment. You've pegged me as a conman, and that's what I am. No denying it I'm afraid. I understand it if you don't want anything more to do with me," Patrick stated, trying to hide the sadness that filled him at the thought of being banned from his family again. But it was unavoidable, he knew that. Who in their right mind would want someone like him in their family?

His grandparents exchanged a mournful look, which he didn't notice because he'd developed a sudden interest in his shoes.

"Patrick? What do you know about families?" Elisa inquired cautiously.

"Ma'am?" He looked up with puzzlement.

"What's a family to you, dear?" She clarified her question.

He puckered his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Let me put it differently. Who do you consider to be your family, Patrick?"

"Lisbon," he answered at once and Teresa squeezed his hand gently.

"Anyone else?" His grandmother decided to dug deeper.

Patrick pondered her question for a while. "That's difficult… my wife and child were my family. But I got them killed, so no family there anymore. Well, my brother-in-law qualifies, I guess, though we're not particularly close. But other than that, I… I consider my teammates as some kind of family. But I'm sure that's rather one-sided. They probably only see me as a pain in their butts." He chuckled fondly. "Oh, and I've become reacquainted with my best friend from childhood a few weeks ago. You can count him in as well. That's pretty much it, I guess." He added a moment later with a warm smile.

Elisa looked at him sadly. "So, your family consists of your girlfried, an estranged brother-in-law, an old friend you had lost contact with, and your colleagues, who don't even return your familial feelings?"

Lisbon had become very fidgety and cast Elisa a pained look. But the old lady just motioned for her to bear with her for now and Teresa nodded her consent, albeit hesitantly.

Patrick's face had fallen a bit at the rather depressing synopsis. "Doesn't sound like much, when you put it like that," he admitted.

His grandmother looked at him challengingly. "Now, let's turn the question around, Patrick. Who do you think would consider you to be family?"

He turned very pensive at that. After some contemplation he said, "I really wouldn't know, ma'am. Teresa, I hope, maybe my friend Andy, I'm not sure."

"In other words, more than half the people you consider family don't even return your affection?" Elisa inquired.

Patrick nodded reluctantly, thinking he had just failed a crucial test. He regretted his honesty. Why didn't he just make up a bunch of close friends and people who enjoyed his company? He was really an idiot sometimes, but maybe it was better this way. It had only been one visit. He hardly even knew his grandparents, so it couldn't be too difficult to just forget about it all again. He'd lived without a family for so long, what difference would it make? It had been stupid right from the start, but he had let Lisbon infect him with her enthusiasm. Well, here goes nothing, he thought and made to get up from the sofa.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N: I hope, Jane doesn't come across as too OOC. But I imagine after all the events of the last days, he's entitled to some (over-)emotional behavior. I'm aware that normally, he'd react with sarcasm, inappropriate questions, and all around nastiness, when things hit too close to home. ****He doesn't usually react the way I described in this chapter, but keep in mind that 'my' Jane's actually yearning for a family.**

**Considering the latest episodes, this fic's turning more and more AU in any case, so that should allow for some creative leeway... I'd love to get your opinions though, so don't be shy and review.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: Some additional Jane-angst, not too much though, I think.**

* * *

An iron-like grip on his thigh prevent his motion. "And where do you think you are going, dear?" his grandmother asked strictly.

"I… Don't you want me to leave?" he inquired with a puzzled expression.

"Why would I want you to leave? I'm not finished with our little game yet."

He sat back, resigned to being humiliated even more before he would be shown the door.

Elisa took a good look at her grandson. He seemed almost heart-broken, even though he did an excellent job of hiding his emotions once again. Well, she had started this show, now she had to finish it and hopefully get her point across to him. So she addressed Lisbon now. "Teresa, dear? Would you please tell me, who YOU think would consider our Patrick here to be family?"

The agent had finally caught on to the game Mrs. Jane was playing and decided to play along, signaling it with a nod. "Well, I do, most certainly," she started, smiling warmly. "His friend Andy does for sure, he even calls him brother. Our whole team has used the term family on several occasions when talking about our very personal pain-in-the-butt. His brother-in-law does call him bro, if I'm not mistaken. And if I'm allowed to venture a guess, I'd say, you two have pretty much accepted him into the family as well." She'd accompanied her words by gently circling the back of Patrick's hand with her thumb. "There are a bunch of other people who are very fond of him as well, but I wouldn't exactly put them in the family category," she added.

The old woman nodded her head in satisfaction. "That's what I thought." Turning her full attention on her grandchild she said, "You have no idea what family is all about, do you? I understand that you have very strong feelings for a lot of people, but you don't expect them to be returned because you think you don't deserve it."

She had to clear her throat before she could continue. "I won't go into detail because I think you're right in your estimation that today isn't the best time to speak about your father, but I still need to say one thing: I am extremely angry at my son right now because I am convinced that most of this insecurity is his fault. Let's leave it at that."

She paused again. "Patrick, please look at me," she finally asked. Her grandson complied with great reluctance. "Even though this should be a sad day because I learnt that my oldest child is dead, this has turned into one of the best I've had in a long time. Because I have gained a grandchild today. A beautiful, smart, kind man. And I couldn't be happier." She leaned over and caressed his cheek lightly. "And even though I've only seen some glints so far, I think I've found my match when it comes to mischievousness and perception as well." She chuckled happily. "Finally another rogue in the family!"

Jonathan had been very silent for a while, but now he chimed in, "I fully agree with my wife's assessment, though I'm not entirely sure the last part is a reason for celebration." He snickered. "We have our hands full with her already," he added with a fond look at Elisa.

Patrick was completely overwhelmed. He could hardly believe his ears. They had actually accepted HIM into their family? His face was full of wonderment, an expression Teresa couldn't recall seeing on him before. He looked a bit like a child on Christmas, she decided, and she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him. Out of consideration for his grandparents she kept it short and sweet though. It still got him out of his stupor just in time to realize what his grandfather had said.

"I'll behave," he hurried to say, eager to please. "I promise, I won't cause you any trouble, sir."

The old man laughed out loud. "Oh you will, my boy. As soon as you feel comfortable around us." He smiled warmly at his newfound relative. "I'm looking forward to it," he added.

"You are?" Confusion was evident on Patrick's face again.

"To you feeling comfortable enough around us to be yourself? Most certainly, Patrick," Jonathan replied smiling warmly.

He looked over at his wife and they seemed to exchange some wordless dialog. "How about I fix us some dinner," the old man suggested a moment later.

Teresa decided to speak up at that point. "I really don't want to be a spoil-sport, but we should probably think about leaving. We have a two-hour-drive ahead of us after all, and we're in the middle of an important case," she said with a regretful mien.

Elisa looked a bit disappointed but nodded in understanding. "You know what? We'll be coming over to Sacramento tomorrow. We happen to have a small apartment there in fact. Jonathan used to work there part-time and to spare him the constant traveling, we bought the place and we've never found the energy to sell it. It will be paying off now that we've found out we have a grandson living in the city." Turning her face towards Patrick she asked, "Now that I think of it, have you decided on anything regarding Alexander's funeral of yet?"

He shook his head. "No. And it won't be necessary for a while, because of the on-going investigation. And to be honest, this last Sunday was the first time I saw him since he disowned me in 1990." He paused for a moment. "I do feel kind of obligated to deal with the arrangements, but I…" Here, he stopped speaking entirely because he really didn't know what to say.

"We'll deal with it together then, Patrick," his grandmother told him. "When it comes to obligations to him, I guess we're probably in the same boat, dear. And I'll talk with your uncle later. He doesn't really remember much about his brother, but I'm sure, he'll want to attend the funeral and, more importantly, meet his nephew." She patted his thigh again. "Now you shouldn't let your lady wait anymore. Just write down your phone number and leave us some contact addresses before you go."

Patrick complied and after a very hearty and warm parting, the two CBI investigators left San Francisco and drove back to their home in comfortable and contemplative silence.

* * *

They filled the rest of the evening with mundane tasks like having some sandwiches, drinking tea and watching TV. They retired to bed not even two hours after getting back from San Francisco. Not much was said and they kept their silence until they'd lain down together in the darkness of their bedroom, cuddled, and shared some intense kisses, reassuring each other of their deep mutual love. "I'm glad things worked out well with your grandparents, Patrick." Lisbon finally broke the silence, resting her head on his chest, her fingers playing lazily with his curls. "It was a bit of a bumpy ride, but…I'm happy for you," she said warmly.

"They might still revoke their words once they've had some time to really think things over," he replied quietly.

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "You're willfully trying to rile me up, aren't you?"

"Well, there is a slight possibility it might happen," he said only half-jokingly.

"The possibility that I'll punch you is a lot bigger, I assure you," she mock-threatened him, belying her words by propping herself up enough to bestow another kiss on him.

Silence commenced again until she broke it once more. "What a crazy day. I mean, imagine all the things that happened during the last 18 hours. It's mind-boggling: Red John kills your father, we find out that he had a mole in SacPD, and we not only discovered you have living family, we actually met your grandparents."

He could sense her shaking her head in the dark. When she'd stilled her movements, he reached out and started to play with some strands of her hair, pushing some behind her ear. "A lot to take in, that's for sure." He sighed. "I'm glad I had you by my side the whole time… though I'm still a bit miffed about all the things you told Elisa and Jonathan about me," he admitted.

"I'm sorry, but if they hadn't been able to accept you the way you are, they wouldn't have been worth it," she claimed.

He pulled a bit on one of her strands, but carefully so as not to cause any real pain. "You are quite self-righteous sometimes, Agent Lisbon. Strictly speaking, that's not really your decision to make. You know that, don't you?"

"Maybe," she mumbled. "But I'm still right. You are a wonderful person and everyone who can't see that is an idiot," she added, pretending to be cocksure of being justified in her opinion on the matter.

He had to chuckle in reaction. "I'm not entirely sure I like that holier-than-thou attitude of yours, but as we all have our flaws, I guess I'll love you just the same," he said with a bountiful air.

Teresa let out a quite un-Lisbonish giggle. "You have a way to always turn the table, don't you? I don't know how you do that, but it's definitely a gift." She propped herself up again and leaned in for another kiss. It turned into a deep, sweet and languid one. "I love you, Patrick," she said afterwards. "Let's try to get some rest now."

He agreed. She left her spot on top of him for once and decided to take in her usual sleeping position lying on her right side facing the door. "Spoon me, Patrick," she ordered.

"You are very demanding," he whispered in her ear, making her flinch, because she hadn't expected him to be so close.

"Don't do that, Jane. You scared the hell out of me," she scolded him.

He snickered and bit her lightly in the tip of her ear, eliciting a languorous moan from her. With a final little lick to her ear, he tried to settle down behind her like she'd asked for. After some tossing and turning he had to admit defeat. "Sorry to disappoint you, Lisbon, but this isn't gonna work. I'd either have to lie on my right arm in this position or you would have to lie on it. Unfortunately, neither is an option right now."

He turned over to his left side and tried to get comfortable. He was slightly miffed he wasn't able to hold his lover, but suddenly he felt someone climb over him and a moment later, Teresa settled down with her back against his chest. She pulled his right arm carefully over her waist, making sure the injured part didn't touch anything. She let out a satisfied sigh.

"Good night, my love," she said sleepily.

"Good night, Teresa," he answered warmly, pressing his lips to the top of her head in a final good-night kiss.

She drifted off to sleep soon afterwards, while Patrick lay awake for many hours trying to sort through the tumble in his mind, until he finally fell asleep in the small hours of the morning.

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: Sorry the chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but it was a good place to stop. I know, Jane's quite OOC again, but please bear with me...  
**

**Just a little reminder: Reviews are a writer's best friend...**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'd like to use the opportunity to once again thank my beta firstdown for all the time and effort she invests in this story. I'm really, really thankful and I can't repeat often enough how much I appreciate her input.**

* * *

**Warning: This chapter isn't entirely angst free...**

* * *

When Lisbon's alarm went off at 6:30 on Wednesday morning, Jane groaned in annoyance. He'd just managed to get into one of the few nice dreams he was granted once in a while and considering that he'd only slept about two or three hours, he was by no means well-rested either.

Teresa stopped the alarm and got up, leaving her grumpy lover behind. She'd taken one look at him and had known that his night had been way too short. She could give him another half-hour while she was in the shower, but couldn't allow him much more because she needed him at work.

She got into the shower and reflected on the situation some more. On the one hand, it pained her to force him out of bed, because she knew he desperately needed more rest, but she had promised herself that she couldn't let her personal feelings interfere with her job. Though she had to admit that she was balancing on a knife's edge on that point anyway, because as a team leader she also had a responsibility towards each member of her unit. And technically speaking, Patrick had a right to both sick and bereavement leave right now.

So it was with a very bad conscience she woke him again forty minutes later. That she cushioned the blow with a cup of tea didn't make it much better in her opinion. She sat down on the edge of the bed and tousled his hair, bent down and pressed a kiss on his cheek, and whispered a quiet "Good morning" in his ear.

"Dunno 'bout good," he slurred drowsily. "'m tired."

He wiped the sleep out of his eyes with the backs of his hands, and though she had seen him doing that before quite a few times, when he'd been roused from a nap on one couch or another, she found it especially endearing right now. He looked up at her with bleary eyes and stretched like a cat. "Do I really need to-," he yawned, "-get up?" he asked.

"Yes, Jane. No lazing around. We have a job to do. There's a suspect to crack and leads to follow," she said energetically, though inside she felt awful for treating him like that. "Come on, hurry! It's already a quarter past seven. Are you able to drive today? I'd like to leave for the office soon. I'd rather not wait for you to get ready."

"I'm up, I'm up, Lisbon." He sighed deeply, propping himself up into a sitting position. "Do I smell tea?" he inquired, his sight still a bit fuzzy.

"On the night stand," she answered with an eye roll.

He got the mug and took a big mouthful, moaning in obvious delight. "Thanks, Teresa. Ah, and yes, I'll take my own car to work. Don't let me keep you, Miss Eager." He grumbled a bit at the last words.

She pecked him on the lips and got up. "I'm sorry, Patrick. But since we left early yesterday to get to San Fran, there's a lot of paperwork waiting for me."

"Yeah, yeah. And as usual, it's completely my fault. I know." He sighed heavily.

"That's crap and you know it," she huffed. Changing to a friendlier tone she added, "I'm really sorry, Patrick. Especially for forcing you out of bed. I know, you should actually be on both sick and bereavement leave right now. But I really need you at work."

He laughed humorlessly at that. "Oh please, Lisbon. We both know that there is no such thing as leave mentioned anywhere in my contract anyway." He got up fully. "Don't worry, I'll be in as soon as possible."

She looked at him in honest confusion. "What do you mean, there's nothing about leave in your contract?"

He walked over to her and pecked her on the cheek. "You seem genuinely surprised," he stated. "Haven't you ever read my contract?"

"No, not really, to be honest," she admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled. "Wow, I'm astonished you don't already know it by heart. That's very unlike you."

"Guess you're right. But I decided a long time ago to leave everything concerning your employment to the powers that be," she replied a bit defiantly.

He chuckled again and pushed a stubborn strand of her hair out of her face and behind her ear tenderly. "I don't have the slightest idea why…" He pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss, before he suddenly turned her into the direction of the door and gave her posterior a light slap. "Off you go, Agent Lisbon. Van Pelt's already on her way. Can't let her beat you."

She turned her head, glared at him, and marched out of the room.

He followed her for a moment on his way to the bathroom and when she'd reached the bottom of the stairs he shouted at her retreating back, "There's a good little soldier."

She replied, shouting from the entrance door, "If you're not at work in an hour, I'll put you on report, Mister."

"Nice try, Lisbon. But think about how much additional paperwork that would cause," was his answering cry. "And Lisbon? You do remember that it's Grace's birthday today, don't you?"

"Crap," she grumbled. "I totally forgot." She went back into the living room and opened the chest of drawers, got out a nicely wrapped box and finally left her condo.

She was very thankful that Jane had reminded her. Being in a relationship with him obviously had its advantages. Before, she wouldn't have put it past him to explicitly NOT remind her, just to enjoy her embarrassment when she appeared at work without a present, even though she'd bought one ages ago. He could be a total jerk like that sometimes…

* * *

Lisbon's morning started with reports and a lot of coffee. She worked in deep concentration, hardly noticing when someone - presumably her lover - came by and put a bear claw and a fresh mug of coffee in front of her. She only nodded her thanks and went on working, taking bites in between. When she looked up again about two hours later, she realized, that Jane actually sat on her office couch, deeply immersed in some case files she'd left out for him, mostly containing the initial interviews with Keen conducted by Cho and Rigsby.

Perceptive as he was, he seemed to sense her gaze on him immediately and raised his eyes. "Ah, the paper-monster spat you out again. Welcome back," he teased.

She smiled warmly at him. "Thanks for breakfast."

"Don't mention it. How about a real break now, though? The birthday girl's eager to gather the team around her for some coffee and cake and a moment of quality time. I know we're in the middle of a rather important case-" he winked at her, "-but I think, we should sacrifice a bit of our precious time for the living instead of the dead."

Lisbon got up from behind her desk and went over to her consultant. She held out a hand to pull him up, all the while examining him with a critical look. "That was weird, Jane. Is that really you?" Her eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. "Maybe some aliens have taken over your body or something." She narrowed her eyes now. "Yes, that must be it. Because the Jane I know…"

He interrupted her. "Yeah, that just shows, what you know…" He grabbed her outstretched hand and got to his feet. Deliberately overbalancing slightly, he landed in her arms and she was forced to hug him to keep them both from falling over. He returned the gesture for a moment, relishing in her closeness.

"We shouldn't do this here at the office," she mumbled into his chest.

"You just caught me because I'm too clumsy to stand on my own two feet, Agent. Nothing wrong with helping out a colleague," he replied casually.

She pushed him away. "Yeah, right. Absolutely no other intent behind it, Jane." Sarcasm was clearly audible in her voice. "Come on. Our team is waiting."

* * *

The Homicide Team of CBI's SCU gathered around a table in the bullpen for a short celebration of the birthday of their youngest colleague. Grace received small gifts from her teammates and was especially delighted when she discovered the chocolate truffles Jane had made for her. She squealed and pulled him into a hug, starting to pester him with questions about the confectionary they came from again. He of course evaded her inquiries as usual, but his cheeky girlfriend finally exposed him.

"Grace? You should really stop bugging him. He can't tell you because he didn't buy them," she started to explain. Patrick cast her dark looks and shook his head vehemently, trying to stop her from betraying his secret. But she didn't back down. "No, Patrick. I'm going to tell her. You're being ridiculous."

The rest of the team watched them with puzzlement. "Tell me what?" Grace asked astonished.

"That he made them himself. From scratch," Teresa stated.

"No way," Rigsby exclaimed.

"Yes, he did. I actually saw him doing it, so there's absolutely no room for doubt here," Lisbon elaborated.

All eyes were suddenly on Jane and he looked incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassed. And his expression turned downright mortified when Grace gave him a peck on the cheek and called him sweet.

"I'll seriously kill you," he hissed in Lisbon's direction, causing general laughter amongst his teammates.

"We already knew what a softie you are anyway, Jane," Cho informed him.

"Gee thanks, mate, that makes me feel a whole lot better," Patrick answered sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Cho deadpanned.

"I want some too. For my birthday," Rigsby chimed in.

"Same here," Cho added.

"Why don't I just quit this irrelevant job and open my own confectionary," Jane muttered.

"Wow, do I see chocolate truffles for free and less paperwork in my future? I'd have to say: go for it," Lisbon teased him.

"Hahaha, aren't we all funny today," Patrick grumbled.

"How did things work out with your relatives yesterday, by the way?" Grace inquired, attempting to change the subject because she could feel that Jane really was uncomfortable. And after his sweet gesture, he deserved a break in her opinion.

Lisbon and Jane shared a bit about the events from the previous afternoon and the consultant genuinely thanked Van Pelt for her good research work. She was ecstatic about Patrick's newfound family and clearly expressed her happiness for him. Even the male members of the team shared in the good news and patted him on the back. And though he was rather embarrassed again, Teresa could see a real smile on his face that reached his eyes and warmed her heart.

* * *

She had still to be the fun killer and order everyone back to work shortly after – the sufferings of being the leader. She'd almost reached her office door when a man stormed into the bullpen.

"Patrick Jane?" he asked in agitation.

The consultant, who'd just taken a seat on his brown leather couch, got up again to meet the visitor. "Yes. How can I help you?" he inquired.

The man came closer, invading Jane's personal space. He was clearly bigger than Patrick and had a threatening physical presence. But Jane wasn't that easy to intimidate. He stood his ground, even though the other man was obviously enraged.

"Listen, you little bastard. You stay away from my parents or so help me God, you'll regret it," the intruder spat out.

"Wow, okay, calm down. Let's discuss this like adults. I don't even know who you are." Jane tried to calm him.

"You little shit," the tall, black-haired man continued without taking heed of Patrick's words. "They are kind and good people. And I won't allow you to play your ruthless games with them. I have a lot of friends in the DA's office here and I know all about you. You're nothing but a fraud. A random circus act. A hellbender. And I don't want you near my parents. Understood?"

Jane just stood there at a loss for words. He had a good idea now who the other man was. He was actually surprised he hadn't recognized him at once from the photos he'd seen just yesterday. But with the enraged expression he looked changed. Reminded Jane of his father in a drunken rage, to be honest. And it was mostly this last realization that paralyzed him. And he wasn't the only one. The bullpen was full of agents and other staff from different units, and they all stood there and gaped at the scene in front of them.

"Answer me, you miserable bastard. I want your promise – not that it is worth anything – that you'll stay out of their life. We don't need you. We're perfectly happy. Your father caused this family enough harm. Do you have any idea how much they've suffered already? And now you think you can just crop up, worm your way into their home and destroy what little peace they've managed to find?" The man continued raging.

When Patrick just stared at him in bewilderment, the angry man grabbed the lapels of his jacket. "Do you understand me? We don't want or need a clown like you in our family! Nobody wants you. Is that clear?"

He violently shook Jane, nearly lifting him off the ground, as Cho and Rigsby jumped in to help their friend. They'd subdued the attacker in no time. Lisbon, who'd come back into the bullpen in the middle of the angry man's rant, walked over and ordered, "I want him in cuffs. Take him to my office."

When she looked up to check on Jane, she realized that he had disappeared. "Damn!" she grumbled. "Van Pelt? Did you see Jane leave?"

"No, ma'am. Sorry," she answered shame-faced.

"Try calling him. I have to take care of this," Lisbon said with a sigh. She'd much rather go and find Patrick, but this was work and right now she had to question a man who'd attacked a member of her team.

* * *

Lisbon entered her office, where her two male team members stood on either side of the handcuffed man they'd placed in the visitor's chair. She motioned for Rigsby and Cho to and addressed the tall man sternly, "Matthew Jane, I presume?"

"Yes. How did you know?" he asked. He'd calmed down a bit by now.

Ignoring his question Teresa continued, "I'm Senior Agent Lisbon. As a lawyer you know, that I could arrest you for attacking a member of my team, Mr. Jane. What the hell were you thinking, coming here and assailing my consultant like that? And in front of his colleagues? Don't you have any shame?"

"I just have to protect my family, Agent. And after my father called me last night, I made a few inquiries this morning. Imagine my surprise when I found out about this charlatan you call a 'consultant.' I simply had to act," Matthew Jane explained.

"Mr. Jane, listen carefully. This man you just called a 'charlatan' happens to be the best detective in this state. I'm afraid your research has been very flawed if you didn't realize that. And incidentally he's my friend. I won't allow anyone to insult him like that. Do we understand each other?" Lisbon said, her voice cold with repressed anger.

Jane bent forward in his chair and cast her an intent look. "Friends? He actually has friends? With the way he acts, one would think he only had enemies… Now Agent, can you please release me from these ridiculous handcuffs? I won't try to run."

"You think further insulting Patrick will make me release you? Think again. You will sit here with these handcuffs until your parents have arrived, which will be in approximately 25 minutes. And then you will explain to them what you just did to their grandchild. You know nothing about your nephew, Mr. Jane. Nothing," she hissed.

"My parents are coming here?" he asked a bit nervously.

"Yes. I talked to them earlier. They want to take their grandson out for lunch. I'm sure, they'll be delighted about this nice little family reunion. If I were you, I'd write my will now. Elisa is going to rip you a new one for that stunt," Lisbon advised him.

"You know my mother?"

She nodded.

"Oh no." A look of realization crossed his face. "You are Teresa, aren't you?" he inquired worriedly.

She nodded again. "Now I'll leave you to your own devices. And don't even think of leaving this office. I'll have an officer watching the door."

* * *

**TCB**

**BTW: I would really appreciate some feedback. It's been a bit calm on that front lately, so to speak... **


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: Jane angst again... I'm giving him a bit of a hard time right now, the poor guy...**

* * *

She left him and went looking for Patrick.

"Van Pelt? Did you get Jane on the phone?" she asked.

"No boss. It's going directly to voicemail. But Rigsby checked: his car's still in the parking lot," the young woman answered.

"Well, let's hope he's in the attic then," Teresa said with a sigh. "I'll be up there if you need me. And should Elisa and Jonathan Jane show up, please call me at once."

Grace nodded.

Lisbon went up to her lover's favorite hide-out, but to her chagrin she found it empty. She cursed and went down again. She reached the bottom of the stairs just when the lift doors opened and revealed Patrick's grandparents. They spotted her at once and greeted her warmly. But Elisa's keen observation skills detected Teresa's agitation at once.

"What's the matter, dear? Something wrong?" she inquired.

Lisbon led them in the direction of her office, helping the limping lady along. "Something happened. Your son Matthew popped up here a while ago."

"Oh, but that's nice, isn't it?" Elisa asked. "Bet he couldn't wait to meet his nephew. He's always been a spur-of-the-moment kind of person," she added, pride and affection for her son visible on her face.

Teresa squirmed with discomfort. "Mhm, it wasn't nice actually. Rather the opposite." She took a deep breath and decided to be frank. "He attacked Patrick both verbally and physically in front of all his colleagues. Accused him of being a fraud and of wanting to destroy your family. And banned him from contacting you. Threatened him even, to be honest."

Both Janes looked at her in open-mouthed shock. Jonathan was the first to compose himself. "Where is he?" he asked with concern.

"I have him in my office. We had to subdue him, I'm afraid," Teresa explained carefully.

"Not Matthew, Teresa. Where's my grandson?" Jonathan inquired impatiently.

Lisbon blushed a little. "I… I don't know. I was just trying to find him. He disappeared right after the confrontation. And I had to deal with your son first. I'm sorry, but I'm the leader here. I had to do my duty. I have no idea where he is. His car is still here though, so I hope he's still somewhere in the building." Her distress was obvious in her voice.

Elisa patted her arm kindly. "Why don't you and Jonathan go and search for Patrick, while I set our son straight? He's always been a hot-head. But this? I'm so angry. He'll rue the moment he decided to rush in here, I promise you that, Teresa. Now lead me to your office and then get me my grandson back."

Lisbon helped her along, opened the office door and guided her directly to the sofa. She left again at once, eager to find her lover and convinced that the feisty old lady would do a fine job all on her own.

* * *

"Now Teresa, where should we look for him?" Jonathan asked anxiously.

"I have no idea, to be honest. He wasn't at his usual hide-out. But that was only the first place I managed to check out. Maybe it's best to do this systematically and start in the basement."

This turned out to be a good idea because they found the missing consultant down there in the last place Lisbon would have ever expected him to be: the gym. Apart from him, it was totally deserted at this time of day. He was working a punching bag with fierce determination. The sight was so completely alien to her eyes, she squinted with disbelief at first. He wore a blank mask and only his angry punches betrayed his real state of mind. His outfit consisted of his usual suit-pants, a black CBI t-shirt and boxing gloves. Sweet was covering his brow and at second glance she discovered to her great dismay, that blood was running down his right arm.

"Patrick, stop!" she exclaimed stepping closer to him. Jonathan decided to remain in the background for the time being.

The consultant flinched because he hadn't noticed her presence before. But his surprise was only short-lived and he resumed his activity. "Go away, Lisbon. I'm busy," he said neutrally.

"You're bleeding, Jane. You've reopened the slash on your arm," she stated, forcing herself to stay calm.

"Who cares," he replied with a shrug. "It's a sweet little family-present after all," he scoffed. "The only one I'm ever going to get. So I should better make the most of it." He laughed coldly.

"That's complete bullshit, Patrick. Stop it. Your grandparents want you to be part of their family…" she started.

He interrupted her. "Yeah, well maybe I don't want to be part of theirs."

"Of course you want to. Just because that ignorant uncle of yours showed up and spouted a bunch of lies…" she tried again.

"No, Lisbon. This was a bad idea right from the start. I'm not family-material, okay? I'll abide by his wishes. It's better that way. I won't destroy another family." He punched the bag furiously with each word. "Disgusting, miserable piece of scum." Angry tears escaped his eyes. "I hate this!" He exclaimed. "Why does it always have to end like this?" His punches became more and more erratic until he finally stopped and sank down on the mat in an exhausted crouch.

Strong arms enveloped him from behind and pressed him into a sturdy chest. "This time it won't end like this, son," his grandfather said with complete conviction. The oldest Jane had approached in a hurry when he'd seen that things were getting out of hand. He had taken a seat behind his grandchild and held onto the distraught man in a firm but tender way. "I've got you, Patrick," he said soothingly.

"Please sir, you shouldn't be here," the younger Jane pleaded. "Your son is right. I'm not worth it."

"Nonsense, Patrick," the old man insisted.

With great effort the consultant composed himself. It took a lot out of him, but he freed himself from his grandfather's grip, stood up and said with cold calm, "I asked you to leave, Mr. Jane. I don't think we have an appointment. I'm a busy man. We're in the middle of a murder investigation and we can't share details with the relatives of a victim anyway. Agent Lisbon will be kind enough to follow you out. I can assure you, we'll do everything in our power to find the killer of your son, sir. If you would excuse me now? I need to take a shower and get back to work."

He turned to leave.

"Remarkable. Truly remarkable. I must compliment you on your formidable self-command, Patrick," Jonathan said completely unperturbed by the display. The younger man had stopped in his tracks. "Unfortunately for you, this won't work with me at all, my boy. I'm a psychiatrist. I've studied the human mind most of my life. Whatever you'll come up with won't faze me in the least. I've accepted you into my family and I'll stick by you from now on, no matter what. That's how families work, Patrick," he explained calmly.

"Yeah sure. So Alex wasn't family I assume? Or at least it obviously didn't apply to him, because I sure as hell NEVER heard anything about you and your picture-book-family from him," the young Jane spat.

His grandfather looked at him with a sad expression. "I assure you that we weren't the ones who cut the ties. I have no way of proving it to you, so you have to take my word on it, but Alexander left us and prevented any further contact. We tried to find him many times, even hired a private investigator at some point. But you know your father, Patrick. He was a clever and sneaky man. He didn't want to be found and he accomplished that."

He paused for a moment. "I'm not saying that we are the perfect family. Something like this simply doesn't exist. But we love each other and take care of each other. Sometimes we do it in stupid ways like you witnessed today, when your uncle decided to act without thinking. But usually our hearts are in the right place."

He stepped closer to his grandson, deeming him at least a bit more accessible, and put a hand on his uninjured arm. "And Matthew will come around, I promise you that. After your grandmother is through with him, he'll see reason." He searched out the other's eyes and added softly, "You won't destroy my family, Patrick, you'll enrich it."

The blond man blinked back tears furiously but couldn't stop two from escaping. He looked at the old man with such yearning, it nearly broke Jonathan's heart. He pulled his grandson into a hug and reassured him further. "You'll always have a place with us from now on. And your girlfriend as well. Now I suggest, you clean up a bit and see a doctor. That arm of yours doesn't look good. Okay?"

Patrick nodded against his chest. He was released shortly after and trudged off in the direction of the changing rooms without a word.

* * *

Jonathan Jane turned his attention towards Teresa. "Has he ever gotten any real professional help? He seems so wounded and yet so strong." He sighed.

"I really don't think it's my place to tell, sir. He's very private and we should respect that. Maybe he'll get comfortable enough around you at some point and divulge more about his past. But I won't betray his trust. It's very hard earned, believe me," Lisbon replied.

"Thank you for your candidness, Teresa. I guess, it's just my professional curiosity rearing its ugly head. Well, that and genuine concern for my grandchild. I promise, I won't pester you again. He'll talk when he's ready. In the meantime we'll just have to continue to show him how much we care about him. Right, my dear?"

She nodded. "Sir? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, anything."

"You really plan to keep your promise and accept him into the fold, don't you? Because if you aren't 100% serious about this, I would have to ask you to get the hell out of here. If you let him down, I'm not sure I'll be able to put the pieces back together again. I love him with all my heart. I won't allow you to hurt him," she declared.

Jonathan looked at her with seriousness. "I give you my word, Agent Lisbon. I will do everything in my power to stay true to it. I might only have known him for less than a day, but he already has a place in my heart. He is special, I can see that. And precious, both to you and to my wife and me."

He smiled fondly. "You should have seen her yesterday evening. She was so happy. I mean, we are rather contented people in general, but this news was really great, as strange as it might sound to you, considering that you had to inform us of our son's death. But Alexander has been a sour spot for all of us and for so many years. In a way, it was actually a relief to finally know something definite about his fate." He swallowed audibly. "And then to learn that he's managed to create something so beautiful. And having a chance to get to know our grandchild – it's like we suddenly got a chance for some kind of reconciliation after all these years."

He searched her eyes. "We won't spoil this, I promise you that. And we'll set Matt straight as well. He won't come near Patrick until he's seen reason and is willing to apologize wholeheartedly. I'm truly sorry he hurt and humiliated him in front of his colleagues. It's unforgivable. But I hope we can all work through it. As family."

Lisbon nodded but had to warn the older man. "I'll see what I can do, but you are aware that there were 15 or 20 witnesses, most of which are law enforcement officers, who saw your son attack someone they will deem one of their own? Patrick might not have too many friends in the DA's office, but most of the staff here like him well enough."

Pride was visible in her face as she continued. "He might act like a jerk at times, but he closes cases and he's always willing to assist the other teams. He is a very capable interrogator. An expert when it comes to cracking tenacious perps. And you should see him with the maintenance crew. I'm sure, half the female cleaners are in love with him, and some of the male ones as well, come to think of it." She smiled warmly. "He can be very charming and courteous. He has a way with people, when he's not out to annoy them. There's a reason he was so successful playing crowds in his former life. And you should see him at our charity balls. I'm sure he's raised more funds for the CBI than anyone else in the history of the Bureau."

She paused, pulled her thoughts back to the more serious matter at hand, took a step closer to the older man and looked at him intently. "So you will understand that there are a lot of people who won't like the fact that he was humiliated like that in public. And frankly, before I see with my own eyes that your son is truly repentant, I'm not willing to hush this up either," she concluded with a determined expression.

"I understand that, Agent. It's your prerogative as a leader to take care of your own. And Matthew brought this onto himself. If he has to pay the price for his foolishness, then so be it. But if at all possible, I would like to avoid this ruining his whole career. You know he's a district attorney, don't you?"

"All the more reason for him to know better, sir. But I'm pretty sure Patrick won't press charges, if that is any consolation," Teresa answered.

"No, I won't," Patrick agreed. He'd reentered the gym after a quick shower and had heard most of the last part of the conversation. He was dressed in his usual three-piece-suit again. "Probably had ADA Ardiles as his source of information. Can't blame him in that case. And let's be honest here. He wasn't too far off the truth in his description of me. Though he's dead wrong about the rest. My intentions towards your family are pure, I assure you, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir,' please. I'm your grandfather. No reason to be so formal. Jonathan will be fine until you're comfortable enough to use something more familial. And though I do not know how my son described you, I'm sure it wasn't even close to the truth. But I appreciate the fact that you are willing to clear this up without involving the authorities," Jonathan said with warmth and a friendly wink at Lisbon.

"As I said, I'm not out to harm your family. I'll keep my distance. I promise you that. Maybe, if it's alright with your son, you'll allow me to attend Alex' funeral. I think I would like to get some kind of closure."

"Don't be ridiculous, Patrick. What's this talking about keeping distance? Complete nonsense. We're not going to let you out of our clutches again, my boy." He approached his grandson and stood before him, taking him in with his full attention. "As a matter of fact, we'll be staying in Sacramento for a while, so we'll get the chance to spend some time with you and to arrange the service for our son, for your father, together. If Matt doesn't accept that, then I'm afraid he'll be the one who has to keep his distance for a while." He patted Patrick's left arm.

"Jane? How's your arm? You should see Gloria," Lisbon chimed in.

"Yes, yes. I'll do that. Don't worry, I'm fine. Why don't you take Jonathan up to wherever Elisa might be? I'll be by later." Patrick tried to assuage her.

"Oh yeah. That's really reassuring. If I had gotten a dime for every time you said you were fine when you obviously aren't, I'd be as rich as Walter Mashburn by now," she muttered.

"Ah, but then again, you wouldn't have managed to accumulate such riches. You would have spent it all on perfectly charitable causes," he teased her.

"Yeah, like your hospital bills…" she teased him back.

He chuckled and stepped over to her. He bent down to her and whispered in her ear, "I'm alright, Teresa, really. I'll be a good boy and let Gloria fix me up. Just go upstairs and please don't worry." As an afterthought he breathed a quiet "Love you," in her ear, before he nodded in Jonathan's direction and left the gym.

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: Thanks for all the nice reviews I got for the last chapter. I really appreciate it. And to those who think they're not good at the whole giving feedback stuff - a simple word of encouragement helps as well. For me it's just nice to know that people read and enjoy what I'm posting. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Warning: Major Jane angst...**

* * *

Jane senior and Teresa went up to her office. She couldn't stop worrying, but had to trust Patrick to do what he said he would.

The atmosphere in her personal workspace was tense, indicating that Elisa hadn't fully accomplished to sort out her son yet. She was seething with anger, as a matter of fact, and the first words they'd heard upon entering had been "Stubborn mule."

"Don't tell me our son still hasn't seen reason, Elisa? Are you losing your touch, dear?" Jonathan inquired, trying to calm his enraged wife a bit. "Matthew? What's this supposed to mean? Why are you acting like a mindless lunatic? Do you know that Patrick's good-will is the only thing standing between you and a lawsuit that could cost you your job? What's gotten into you?"

"He's dangerous, Dad. That's what I've been trying to tell mum for nearly an hour now. He's a killer. He got away with murder even." He leaned forward in his chair, clearly frustrated to still be in handcuffs. "And he is a loose canon. He knows no bounds. He is a danger to himself and others. I talked with the ADA of Sacramento and what he told me was more than alarming. Honestly, you should keep as far away from him as possible," Matthew Jane ranted.

The oldest Jane stepped closer to his son and looked at him accusingly. "You talk to one person and just because it's a fellow DA you decide his opinion on the matter is carved in stone? And what your own parents tell you doesn't count? What the hell is wrong with you, Matt? Do you take your mum and I as completely gullible people? Demented from age or what? I don't recognize you right now, son. I know you can be rash at times, but this?" He shook his head. "Your behavior is appalling."

"But Dad! You should see his files. He's bad news. I just want to protect you before he pulls you into one of his reckless schemes. I…" Matt tried to explain himself, but his father interrupted him.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear another word from you." He stepped even closer and used the advantage of standing over his sitting son to stress his point. "How dare you judge another person like this? That's not how I've raised you. I can only hope that you don't usually act like that on your job." He shook his head. "Files. Really?" He cast his son a disgusted look. "I am your father and a renowned psychiatrist. Have been one longer than you've been alive. Don't you think I'm a better judge of character than a disgruntled ADA with a personal grudge against my grandson and some files? Shame on you, Matthew Charles Jane!"

He sighed, his face a picture of disappointment. "Right now I have half a mind to actually encourage Patrick to press charges against you. See how you'll like it when that friend of yours in the DA's office suddenly has to prosecute YOU. The only loose canon I see here right now is you, not my grandson."

Jonathan had to take a deep breath at the end of his long speech, feeling winded. He had been so sure his boy had only acted a bit hot-headed and would see reason as soon as his mother had a chance to reassure him and set him straight. Obviously it would take a bit more, and in the meantime, they'd have to make sure Patrick wouldn't be hurt even more in the process.

With all the developments of the last few days, the man was vulnerable, that much was clear, even though he understood that his grandson was a tough customer. What he had seen so far was an almost absurd combination of fragile and aloof, needy and self-reliant, cocky and meek. To him, this showed a very strong personality on edge, a fighter, who'd taken a few too many punches in a short amount of time but was clawing at every straw to stay conscious just the same. He respected that in the man.

His son seemed a bit shocked about the strict talking-to. It had been years, if not decades, since his father had spoken to him in such a way. And he didn't like the disappointment visible on his parents' faces. It got him thinking, but he still had his reservations against that poser, who'd just appeared out of nowhere and seemed to have won his parents' sympathy in a matter of hours. He was especially worried because his parents usually were rational and reserved people.

Everybody in the office sat in silent contemplation for many minutes. Lisbon was angry and worried where this whole mess would lead, but decided to let the Janes sort it out between them for the time being. Elisa and Jonathan were at a loss for what else to say to reach their son.

Matthew was still weighing the different impressions in his head. That fraud had a reputation of luring unsuspecting people into traps, from what he'd heard. Doubts had however been spreading in his mind, ever since he'd seen how respectable agents from the top Bureau in the state seemed to genuinely care for that man. They had been enraged when he'd attacked Patrick. He had expected to be lauded and urged on, not subdued and handcuffed. But he was stubborn and not willing to cave in before he was absolutely sure that rook didn't mean his family any harm.

* * *

Said rook suddenly appeared in the room carrying a tray with a tea service on it. He took in the atmosphere in the office at once and sighed. "I see. Guess things haven't really been resolved here. Why don't we all sit down, have some tea, and talk like civilized people? Lisbon, why don't you take off the handcuffs as a gesture of good-will? I dare say, that Mr. Jane won't attack me again in the presence of his parents." And with a warm smile in Teresa's direction he added, "And furthermore, I have complete trust that you'll protect me."

The Senior Agent returned the smile and freed his uncle, though she couldn't say the man deserved it. She found him to be a self-righteous bastard. "Jane? Could we talk a minute outside, please?" she asked afterwards.

"Your whole office seems to be filled with Janes right now, but I guess you're asking me, Lisbon?" Patrick teased her as he set down his tea and turned to the door. "Please feel free to serve yourselves," he addressed the other occupants of the room politely.

* * *

Outside, Teresa looked at him with barely concealed worry. "How's your arm? What did Gloria say?"

"My arm's fine. It was just a very small part that reopened. She glued it together again and gave me a stern lecture to be more careful in the future. That was pretty much it. I'm alright, Teresa, stop worrying so much or your hair will turn gray soon." He grinned cheekily.

"I'm pretty sure, it's immune, or I'd have already turned gray years ago. But seriously, Patrick, I can't help worrying. With all of the events of the last days, it's getting too much even for me. And I'm only involved indirectly, unlike you. And Matthew? He's stubborn and self-righteous. Are you ready to take him on? And please be honest with me, Jane." She searched his eyes and conveyed her deep concern.

Patrick returned her earnest expression. "Yes, I'm up to it. He caught me off guard earlier and well, his demeanor reminded me a bit of my father. That was rather eerie at first. But now I know where he comes from and I'll be okay." His eyes turned sad when he continued, "I just hope I won't be the cause for a rift in the family. That's not my intention. I tried to back out, so my grandparents wouldn't feel the need to take sides. But you heard Jonathan – he wouldn't allow me to retreat. Guess we'll just have to figure something out, right?"

She patted his arm gently. "I'm proud of you, Patrick. You are very mature about this whole situation," she whispered, so no one could overhear her private words.

He smiled warmly at her. "Shall we?" he indicated the door with a motion of his head, and they reentered together.

* * *

Elisa motioned him over to the couch immediately. "Come greet your grandmother, Patrick, and sit down with me. Excellent tea, by the way. I'm glad you've inherited the Jane-tea-gene." She smiled kindly at him and he followed her request. The second he'd taken a seat, she pulled him into a hug, ignoring his outstretched hand with a snort. "A handshake, Patrick? That's what you consider an appropriate greeting?" She tsked.

When she had released him out of a slightly awkward embrace due to his obvious reluctance, he cast a careful glance in the direction of Matthew. "I didn't want to aggravate things with your son, ma'am. I thought, it would be better to keep my distance so as not to offend him any further," he explained.

"Hogwash!" she scolded him. "I won't let my stubborn son dictate how I treat my grandchild, Patrick. Now, let's discuss this and hopefully clear it up. It's gone on too long and too far already."

The consultant sat up straight and looked over to his uncle. "Mr. Jane? I understand that you have certain objections to me. It would probably help if you put them in the open and gave me the chance to reply to them. Would that be agreeable to you?" he asked, calmly and politely.

"See, Mum, Dad? That's what I mean. Now he's already manipulating you again. Pretending to be all rational, just so I'll look bad in comparison," Matthew said with agitation. "He isn't really like that. He killed someone and got away with murder. He's…."

Patrick's eyes were the only thing giving away his anger when he interrupted the other man and answered calmly," Mr. Jane, you are nothing but a hypocrite. You came here this morning and ATTACKED me, at the mere thought and without proof that I might hurt your family." He paused a bit, collecting his thoughts. "Yes, I shot a man. A man who'd explicitly told me, that he had MURDERED my wife and my daughter." He swallowed heavily. "That he had cut open the woman I loved and my beautiful little girl. Cut them open and used their precious blood to paint my bedroom wall with a smiley-face. He taunted me with how they'd smelled when he killed them, how he'd enjoyed them. And yes, I shot him, because he'd destroyed everything that was precious to me." He took a deep breath and looked over to his uncle. "I would guess you understand the sentiment well enough, considering your little outburst this morning."

Matthew Jane looked very uncomfortable by now. He felt slightly ashamed, because even though he had gotten the facts about the murder of his nephew's family, he'd not made any effort to honestly consider what this might have meant for the other man. He'd just assumed Patrick was a cold-blooded conman, a cruel and ruthless manipulator just like his brother Alex had been. But now he was sure he saw what he had to admit to be an honestly hurting man. The two pictures weren't conclusive in the least and he wasn't quite ready to give up his stubborn conviction that the man wanted to harm his family. Maybe even because Patrick had lost his own and begrudged them their happiness. "That's what you claim, but considering you're obviously a professional liar, who knows…" he retorted.

"You, Mr. Jane, know nothing about me. Nothing. What gives you the right to judge me like that?" Patrick asked coldly.

"Well, I knew your father and you are his son. I might have only been nine when he left, but let me assure you – it was the best day of my life when he finally disappeared. He scared the hell out of me. He was evil and vicious. He tantalized me and others and he watched our fear with glee. He enjoyed other people's sufferings." Matthew shuddered at the memories. "And all I've heard about you shows that you're just like him. Cruel, heartless, a fraud. Guess he raised you well." The last part was added with sarcastic derision. "And now you've come to destroy my family, because you can't stand the thought that the former family of your beloved dad is actually happy while your father and your wife and child are dead."

Patrick had tried everything in his power to stay collected at the hurtful words, but after the last part, he'd jumped up from the couch, ignoring every attempt from his grandparents and Lisbon to calm him. He started to pace while he ranted angrily, "You arrogant, self-righteous bastard. What right do you have to accuse me of all those things? What the hell have I ever done to you?"

"He wasn't supposed to have children and produce another disordered creep. So you being born, that's what you've done to me. You shouldn't have been born," Matthew spat.

Elisa Jane gasped in shock "Matthew, what an utterly cruel thing to say. I'm appalled."

Patrick laughed scornfully. "Well, at least you have just proven your own close genetic relation to your brother. Congratulations, Mr. Jane, you've found the one thing you two would have whole-heartedly agreed about. He told me the very same thing every day of my life until I left his dubious care on my 18th birthday."

Teresa tried to stop his pacing but he shook off her hand. "You know what, dear uncle? You are a selfish, self-absorbed, spoiled little boy. You sit here and tell me about family. You accuse me of being just like my father, who bullied you as a child. Well, news flash, Mr. Jane. YOU had at least loving parents who protected you from him. I was alone with him. Do you want to know what that means? I will show you, you holier-than-though smart-ass."

"Patrick, no," Lisbon tried to reason with him. "You don't want to do this. Please calm down."

But he just shook his head and took off his jacket and pulled his shirt out of his pants, holding it up together with his vest, so his bare back was visible. He turned so Matthew had a good view of it. His voice was dangerously quiet when he said, "That's what being raised by a sadist means. And yes, I'm jealous as hell of your family. Of the love you were showered with and the chances you got. You were pampered, went to good schools, got a good education, and an oh so respectable job. Sorry, I was just a laughable little carnival act, which paid for your dear brother's gambling, sleeping around, and booze. So I'm making my living playing mind games – it's the only thing I was ever allowed to learn. Well, bite me!"

Patrick deflated visibly after his outburst. He redressed silently, averting his eyes from everyone in the room. Shame filled him at his loss of control, and blank fear. Because now he'd done it and bared himself – literally - in front of his grandparents. All his dirty secrets disclosed in one moment of anger and weakness. But his uncle's accusations had hit too close to home. And he had to admit that the last days had really put him on edge. He knew, he'd just blown any chance he'd had with the Jane family, but maybe it was better that way. Hoping had never been his strong suit anyway, not since his wife and child were taken from him. Better destroy it before it destroys you. At least that way you were the one in control. That's what he kept telling himself, so the pain wouldn't get unbearable.

* * *

**TBC**

**Thanks for all the kind reviews once again. I really appreciate every single one of them. It's the best incentive a writer could wish for.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Warning: Still some Jane angst...**

* * *

Patrick was in his own world right now, a world of personal hurt and distress. The normally hyper-observant man hadn't noticed anything about the reactions of the other occupants in the office. He didn't see his grandmother crying silently or his grandfather sitting in his chair hiding his face in his hands, fighting down thoughts about killing his already dead firstborn. And neither did he hear his uncle muttering "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

What finally got to him were the gently hands casing his cheeks and the green eyes looking at him with deep love and compassion.

"Hi, Lisbon," he whispered.

"Hey, Jane," she answered softly.

"I screwed that up, huh?" he murmured barely audible.

"No, love. You didn't," she said warmly, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. "I love you."

He looked at her in open amazement. "And that's a real miracle to me still, Teresa. And I will cherish it, I promise." His voice was raw with emotion. "Please never leave me. I don't want to be alone again. I don't think I can." He swallowed audibly to rein in the tears that threatened to fall. Now that he had recalled that there were other people in the room with them, he didn't want to give the Janes the satisfaction of seeing him crying.

His perception was still off though, because he hadn't realized that someone had approached them and that Lisbon was casting that someone her most potent death glare in warning. Matthew Jane stood behind Patrick and tried to convey to his nephew's girlfriend that he meant no harm. When she was satisfied he really was genuine in his intent, she nodded at him, released her lover and took a step back to give his uncle some space to get closer.

Patrick recoiled when he became aware of the other man. His arms came up in an automatic gesture of self-protection and he looked at Teresa for help with near-panic.

Matthew watched all of this with a deep sense of shame and sadness. He felt like the biggest idiot – no, the biggest asshole in the universe right now and wished he could turn back time. His nephew's words had been true – he had acted like a self-righteous bastard. Both his mother and father had tried to tell him repeatedly that their new-found relative was a deeply troubled man who'd been dealt a very tough hand by fate. They'd tried to convince him that the other man hadn't come barging in to steal or destroy his family. On the contrary, he'd made it more than clear that he didn't expect to be accepted into the fold because he didn't deem himself worthy. But Matthew had just assumed Patrick was playing his parents. That he was scheming.

That his nephew had been in the company of a high-ranking Officer of the Law at the time, who'd obviously vouched for him, he'd simply ignored. Or the fact that the other man truly hadn't even known of their existence until a day ago. Or that his only other source of information might be biased.

Old feelings had come up, memories of his brother. Things he'd repressed. The sense of constant fear and unease he'd had around his brother. And the knowledge that Alexander's behavior and his disappearance had caused his parents so much anguish. He'd just transferred all those negative emotions onto his innocent nephew. A man who'd most obviously been a much greater victim of his brother. Who'd grown up without love and family, and who'd lost the people he'd made his own family with to the same killer who'd now murdered Alexander. A lonely, wounded soul. That was apparent. Matthew had truly never felt so ashamed of himself in his whole life. He'd accused Patrick of being cruel, but what he had to admit to himself now was his own actions today had been more than dreadful. His nephew on the other hand hadn't done a single thing against him apart from telling the truth.

He was at a loss what to do and how to make this right again. As the Jane family had always been an affectionate bunch, his spur-of-the-moment action now was to engulf his unprepared nephew in a hug.

Patrick let out a rather unmanly squeal in reaction and tried to free himself frantically. "No, no, no. Please don't hurt me," he pleaded.

Jonathan was up on his feet and reached them even before Teresa, who'd also jumped into action. "Matt, release him. This is not the way to do this," the oldest Jane said strictly, and pried open his son's hold on Patrick, who hid behind Lisbon as soon as he was free. The picture would have been rather comical in any other situation, because his petit lover didn't exactly offer much in the way of a true hiding place. But it conveyed very clearly, that this was the only person in the room he trusted and knew would always protect him.

"Really Matt. Sometimes you are such an idiot. I've told you so many times, you have to think before you act," his father scolded him. "Did you think you could just go and hug someone you've repeatedly attacked both physically and verbally today and everything would be forgiven and forgotten afterwards? Honestly, son. How about a simple and real apology for a start?"

Elisa chimed in, "Why don't you come and sit with me on the couch, Matthew? I think your predominant physical presence isn't helping matters right now. Give Patrick some space, will you?"

Her shamefaced and thoroughly chastised son joined her silently.

"Maybe you should all leave for now," Lisbon suggested, taking in the situation and her consultant's obvious distress.

"No, no," Patrick protested. "I'll leave. I need some air." And with that he dashed from the room.

Teresa followed him immediately, calling for Cho. "Go with him. Give him some space but make sure he's alright, okay?"

Her second in command nodded, grabbed his jacket and followed the blond man without further questions. "And call me, if…" Lisbon shouted after him.

"I understand, boss" Cho called back, before she could even finish the sentence.

* * *

At least partly reassured that her lover was taken care of, Lisbon returned to her office. Sending Cho had been the only viable solution she could think of on such short notice. She would've loved to go herself, but she had realized his need for solitude, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to leave him alone right now, so strong was her need to comfort him. Patrick had made it clear several times that he needed alone-time to sort himself out. Just because he'd opened up to her on a few occasions didn't mean that he wasn't essentially someone who preferred to fight his demons on his own, or at least think things over alone first, before he shared the results with her – or not. She couldn't begrudge him this because she was quite similar herself. She could only hope that he had managed to read the situation correctly before he ran off and that he didn't still think his uncle intended to cause more harm to him or that he'd lost his newfound family.

With a deep sigh, she opened the door to her office, where three anxious faces met her. "Why don't you go and have lunch somewhere and we'll talk again later? There's a nice little French Bistro down the street. Patrick needs some time on his own right now. And I need to get back to work. We're still in the middle of investigating your son's and brother's murder," she said with a calm, she didn't really feel.

The three remaining Janes started to get up, disappointment visible on their faces.

"For what it's worth," Matthew started, approaching the Senior Agent, "I'm truly sorry for my atrocious behavior. I'd understand if you wanted to press charges, since I attacked both your colleague and your partner. I'm ready to face the consequences and I'll deserve whatever comes my way. I'll still try to make it up to him. Please know that I… we… he's family now and so are you. Well, if you still want to be. After my display today, you might want to reconsider your involvement with us." Patrick's uncle looked down in shame.

"I can't say I'm happy with you right now, Mr. Jane. Or that being related to you sounds like such a marvelous idea, but I truly like your parents and I'll accept whatever involvement Patrick wants to have with you. But I don't trust you with him and it will take a lot of effort from your side to gain my forgiveness for the hurt you have caused him today."

She paused and took in the other man. "Look at me, Mr. Jane," she ordered and the other man raised his eyes. "I love Patrick with all my heart. I'm aware of his flaws and his troubled past and you know what? I don't care! I still love him. He is strong and kind and a good man who's done some bad things. I don't deny the last part. But I won't allow anyone – least of all a self-righteous man like you – to judge him for it."

She cast him a reproachful look, before she continued. "If you knew him even the slightest bit, you'd realize that you'll probably never meet a more repentant person in your life. Someone who truly regrets his mistakes and tries to make things right. He doesn't always go about it in the smartest ways – I'll grant you this. But his heart is in the right place."

She paused once more to compose herself. Matthew Jane still looked at her intently, so she decided to add a few more words. "Due mostly to your brother's doing, Patrick readily believes he's guilty of just about anything going wrong here. I'm sure he'd even present you with a perfectly logical and convincing argument why it's entirely his fault that there's hunger and sickness in this world, if you'd let him."

To emphasize her next words she intruded on his personal space in an intimidating stance, which was – as contradictory as it seemed – enhanced in its effect by her small frame. "I'm certain that by the time he's thought the events of this morning through, he'll have himself convinced that he's the only one to blame for your vicious attack on him and that he deserved it. I want you to keep this in mind and maybe the next time you want to rush in and assault someone, you'll take a moment to reconsider."

Matthew felt browbeaten. There was no other word for it. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt. He congratulated his nephew on his choice of partner. "Wow, Agent Lisbon. Now I understand why Ardiles spoke of you with such respect. Though he warned me that your loyalty to your teammates has cost you quite a few promotions."

"Frankly, my respect for Oscar isn't as heart-felt. He's caused my team and me quite a bit of trouble over the years. Working with him hasn't exactly been smooth sailing and I admit that we have a part in that as well. But he knows how to hold a grudge, that's for sure."

She had to grin a bit at that, but turned serious again right away, now addressing the District Attorney in front of her. "I know it comes with the territory as a DA, but still. In my opinion, a lawyer is supposed to always be searching for the truth and not insist on being right, merely because his pride doesn't allow him to admit to making mistakes. And Ardiles tends to have this self-righteous streak. Patrick on the other hand has a real talent when it comes to pointing out others' flaws to them and unfortunately he's not very tactful about it."

She smiled fondly for a moment thinking of her absent lover, before she reapplied her previous expression. "And Patrick certainly didn't make a friend of Oscar when he managed to prove that a woman, whose verdict the jury was already deliberating on, didn't in fact commit the murder she was nearly sentenced to death for. She'd been framed and the DA's office had ignored the fact that exonerating leads hadn't been followed thoroughly enough during the investigation."

Matthew followed her words attentively, obviously intrigued. Lisbon raised her brows with clear challenge when she added the final blow. "I think it's not speaking for Ardiles' character that his pride seemed to be more important to him than the life of an innocent woman. And I must say, your way of investigating your nephew doesn't show you in the most favorable light either."

Patrick's uncle stared at her totally flabbergasted. Elisa giggled sprightly at the sight, Jonathan on the other hand outright laughed at that. With obvious mirth he said, "Teresa, you are a gem. I must say, my grandson has great taste in women. You've managed to render my mouthy lawyer-son speechless for once." He came over to her and patted her on the shoulder in a gesture of respect. "We'll leave you to your work now, Agent. Please, call us when you hear something from Patrick. I hope we can clear the air with him soon." Motioning for his son to help his mother to her feet, the three Janes finally left her office.

* * *

Lisbon released a sigh of relief. This whole day was turning progressively into more of a disaster. She still had a pile of paperwork to finish, her lover was off sulking and her second in command couldn't do his actual work because he was on babysitting duty. They had a suspect to interview, which she needed her consultant for, the preliminary report from forensics had come and needed her attention, and she was hungry and it was way past lunchtime and she was worried. What a mess. She decided she needed coffee, lots of coffee, so she got up again to go to the break room.

Halfway there, her cell phone rang. The display revealed the caller as her second in command. "Hi, Cho," she greeted him.

"Hey, boss. Just wanted to tell you, that Jane took his car. I'm dogging him. I think I know where he's headed to."

"Where?" she inquired impatiently.

"The cemetery," he answered.

"I see. Keep at it," she ordered. In a softer tone she added "And thanks, Cho."

"No problem, boss."

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: For all of you out there who celebrate it: Happy Easter!**

**People have been asking for our favorite couple to have some M rated action again. I promise, they'll have some fun before the day is over (unfortunately it's only lunch time at the moment...). No chance for anything before they're at home again though I'm afraid, because no PDAs at the office. Sorry that Lisbon is such a stickler for the rules ;-)**

**Nice Easter bunnies leave eggs, nice readers leave reviews... ;-)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Warnings: Explicit sexual content, angst, food, banter - the whole package...**

* * *

**A/N: This is an extra longer chapter to make up for the fact that starting tonight I'll be gone for a week without a chance to post anything. I'm going to Hongkong on a holiday trip and I'm really excited!**

* * *

Cho followed his teammate and friend to the cemetery, which held the graves of his wife and daughter. He watched from inside the car as Jane walked over to where Cho presumed their last resting places were located. Jane crouched down in front of two stones and sat there deep in thought.

The agent had no idea what exactly had happened to make the man run off. But his best guess was that it had to do with the earlier events. The man who'd attacked their consultant was obviously one of his newfound relatives. Apparently one not too fond of the new addition to his family.

Cho had known the curly blond man for nearly nine years now. He deemed himself to be a rather capable detective. Not in the same league as Jane, obviously, but not too shabby either. And over the years he'd learned to read the consultant, at least to a certain degree. He'd seen him on cases that destroyed families. He'd seen him with children on many occasions. And with people who were supposed to be loving each other but hurt and betrayed each other instead.

Cho had seen that Jane was at his most vicious and scheming when he sensed deception. He knew no mercy when it came to revealing the lies and deceit in a family. On the other hand, he'd also watched him in cases where someone had really suffered a loss, when the feelings of bereavement had been genuine. And in those instances their normally tartly consultant was usually the one who found the right words of comfort and could show a level of kindness one wouldn't expect from him.

All of this had taught Cho a lot about Jane, about his values and convictions. Their consultant obviously yearned for a family. A place to belong. Honest people with honest feelings of affection for each other – and him. Though Cho was still a bit ambivalent about their relationship, he was happy Patrick seemed to have found this with Teresa.

Yesterday the chance to gain even more family had been dangled in front of him, only to be brutally crushed again not even 24 hours later. That had to have hurt. And in his grief he now sought out the place where he'd been forced to bury another dream of a family.

* * *

About an hour later, he saw Jane stand up again, silently staring at the space in front of him. He decided to finally approach him. He got out of the car, crossed the graveyard purposefully and stepped up to Jane.

"Hi, Cho," the blond man greeted him without turning and even before he'd fully reached him.

"Hey, Jane," the Asian man answered.

"Lisbon sent you on babysitting duty," Patrick stated more than asked, still looking ahead.

"Yeah," Kimball replied, standing beside his friend now. "You okay?"

"Fine." Was the short answer.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Jane shook his head with a sideways glance at his teammate.

Cho nodded his acknowledgement and the two men continued to stand side by side in companionable silence for a long time.

Finally Patrick turned to leave. "Thank you, Cho. See you back at the office."

"You're welcome, Jane. How about we grab a bite before we return?"

"I'm not really hungry," Patrick replied. But after a moment of hesitation he spoke up again. "But if you are, I wouldn't be opposed to keeping you company and getting a spot of tea."

"Okay," Cho said in his normal laconic manner. "I'll pick a place. You follow me."

Jane grinned at his friend and nodded his consent.

"And Jane?"

"Yes."

"Call Lisbon, tell her you're okay."

"Will do. Would have done that anyway."

"Good for you."

Jane walked up to Cho and squeezed his shoulder in a friendly gesture. "You're a good man, Kimball Cho. I'm glad you're such a good friend to her."

The agent acknowledged the statement with a nod.

"I won't hurt her if I can help it. Thought you should know that," Patrick added seriously. "I know you don't particularly like or trust me, but I promise my intentions are honest."

"I'm your friend too, Jane," Cho stated. "Don't forget that."

"Oh?" Patrick stared at him in plain astonishment.

"Still think you're a pain in the ass, though." Cho gave the consultant a rare grin.

"I am?" Jane asked, now showing one of his more usual cheery-cocky expressions.

"Yep," Kimball answered. "But you're our pain in the ass, Jane." A half-smile was still visible on his face.

"That I am, Cho. That I am." With a devious grin and a suggestive raise of his eyebrows he added, "Mostly Lisbon's though."

Cho kept a straight face this time, though he had to admit to himself, it was a close call.

Jane chuckled and muttered, "I knew that line would be wasted on you. A pity Rigs isn't around. Poor guy would be as red as a tomato right now."

And then the unthinkable happened: Kimball Cho broke out into full-out roaring laughter. Patrick couldn't help but join in, and so the two friends ended up standing in the middle of a cemetery expressing their mirth (and several other emotions) in a very uncharacteristic way for both of them.

After they'd both calmed down again and finally made their way over to their cars, Jane realized that it had been one of the most liberating moments he could remember having in years, and he felt extremely grateful to his companion and to Teresa for sending him. "Thanks, Cho. I really needed that," he said with heartfelt honesty.

"Don't thank me yet, Jane. Wait until I tell Lisbon what you said," Cho teased him.

Patrick answered in mock-horror, "You wouldn't do that, would you? She'll shoot me. Do you want to have that on your conscience?"

"I can live with that," the agent stated with a straight face.

Only half-joking the consultant said, "Ah, you say that now. But guilt's a bitch, let me tell you that."

Cho turned serious again. "I know that, Jane," he acknowledged the other man's words. Motioning with his head towards their cars, he said, "Let's go."

* * *

More than three hours had gone by since Cho called Lisbon, and to say she was worried would be an understatement. But she trusted her agent and knew he would have called if something really bad had happened. Still, it was nearing six pm and she was starting to become somewhat frantic. She'd managed to do some work, to drink several mugs of coffee and even eat a sandwich Van Pelt had been nice enough to bring her. She'd scolded Rigsby for no other reason than being a convenient target and disturbing her at the wrong time, and had apologized to the poor man. She had called Gloria to verify Jane's recount of his visit to her. She made sure their RJ-minion was still in one piece and then paced her office like a caged animal. Right now, she was straightening out her desk, nervously watched by her two remaining team members who knew her well enough to recognize it as the sign of agitation it was.

At long last her cell phone chimed. She nearly cried with relief when she saw that Patrick was the caller. He reassured her that he was okay, that Cho had cheered him up, which made her snort with disbelieve, but he insisted that it was true. He added that he would be back in an hour or two and apologized for the long absence. She told him to get home instead of coming to work again and when he reminded her that they hadn't spoken to Keen that day, she suggested that giving the man another night of brooding might actually be their best shot anyway. He promised to conduct the interview first thing the next morning. She told him they could talk later at home and asked him not to worry about anything. He told her to heed her own advice and she told him to shut up before she hung up with a smile.

With newfound purpose, she first called Patrick's grandparents and confirmed that their grandson was doing alright. She promised them she would make him call personally, but added that she wouldn't push him. Afterwards, she got back to her work with ardor and watched through the open blinds in her office window as her teammates relaxed. She smiled to herself, made her way over to the bullpen for a short break, and told Van Pelt to go home and enjoy the rest of her birthday. And when Rigsby cast puppy-dog eyes on her, she added, with a touch of sarcasm, "Fine, go home Rigs, it's not like we've anything important to work on anyway," and when he smiled brightly and divulged that he had Ben this week and would be able to spend a bit more time with him that way, she decided that maybe the day wasn't entirely disastrous after all.

Two hours later, she was caught up with her work as much as possible and ready to leave as well. Jane had been right. The preliminary report from forensics had shown traces of a sedative in Alexander's blood, probably imbibed with his evening meal. No traces of fibers or other materials had been found on the body. She congratulated herself, or rather, Patrick once again for having discovered the evidence held in the victim's hand before the corpse had been removed from the crime scene. Though nothing about the report looked fishy so far, she realized that her distrust of anyone outside her own team had started to rival Patrick's. Thinking of him, she switched off her computer and grabbed her jacket, feeling a sudden hurry to get home.

* * *

When Lisbon got to her place, she was greeted with a very unexpected sight. Her couch was occupied by her second in command holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a fork filled with deliciously smelling pasta in the other. Jane was nowhere in sight, but made his presence known verbally. "Teresa? You're home? Great. Dinner's ready. I invited Cho over. Hope that's alright with you." She heard the sounds of plates and cutlerly being situated in the kitchen. "Don't just stand in the doorway, take a seat on the sofa. I'll be in with your food in a sec."

"How the hell did you know I was still standing in the doorway, Jane?" she called back. "Actually, never mind. I don't know why I even bother to ask. Hi, Cho."

The agent chewed and swallowed before he opened his mouth to return the greeting. "Hey, boss. Hope you don't mind my being here."

"Of course not. It's a nice surprise. How did he manage to lure you here?" Lisbon said, while she hung up her jacket and slipped off her shoes.

"He told me you didn't want us back at the office and since I was hungry, he suggested he could fix me some dinner. Said he wasn't hungry himself but if I wanted his company, he'd much rather drink his own tea," Cho explained.

Teresa raised her brows. "And you wanted his company that much?"

Her teammate shrugged. "You said he could cook, boss. I'm hungry."

She came over to him with a smile, patted him on the shoulder, sat down beside him and said, "Good choice, Kimball. What are we having?" She took a closer look at the plate in front of him and took in the smell with anticipation.

"This is the main course. I had something called bruschetta already. Was pretty good. This is something with sage, I think. Better let him explain." He put another forkful in his mouth and couldn't fully quell a satisfied moan. A moment later, his mouth empty again, he said, "I think you should keep him, boss. And if you don't want him anymore, I'll take him."

Teresa snickered. "Unfortunately he isn't quite the well-behaved housewife one would wish for. I'm working on it though. The cooking is a definite bonus."

"You know I can hear you, don't you?" Patrick said upon entering with a filled plate.

"Yes, counting on it, actually," she teased.

"No desert for you tonight, Agent Lisbon," he retorted with a smirk.

"Then you won't get any either," she bantered.

"I'm still here, guys," Cho chimed in.

Patrick and Teresa just grinned at him deviously and Kimball shook his head with a fond smile.

Jane came over to the couch and put the plate he had been carrying down on the coffee-table, before he bent forward and pressed a lingering kiss on Lisbon's lips, which she returned eagerly, surprising herself with the easy acceptance of this PDA in front of one of her subordinates.

"What do you want to drink, Teresa? I'll get it for you when I bring your main course," Patrick asked afterwards.

"Just some soda. Where's your plate, Patrick?" Teresa inquired.

"I'm not particularly hungry. I'll give it a pass," he answered.

She cast him an anxious look. "You need to eat, Jane. I know you didn't have the best of days, but you shouldn't let that stop you. It's not healthy. I bet you didn't even have breakfast this morning."

"I had a slice of Van Pelt's lovely birthday cake, Lisbon. Stop worrying so much. I'm fine, just a bit off my feed today." He left the living room before she had a chance to tell him birthday cake didn't count as a meal.

"Stubborn idiot," she grumbled, taking a bite from one of the three bread like thingies Jane had brought her as an appetizer. She forgot about her anger immediately.

"Pretty good?" she asked her companion on the sofa with raised eyebrows after swallowing. "You call this pretty good, Cho?"

"Yeah," he deadpanned.

She cast him an incredulous sideways glance.

"Okay, pretty damn good," he admitted with a half-grin.

She chuckled. "That's more like it." She took another hearty bite and moaned in delight.

Patrick came back with a tray containing a plate full of some kind of pasta dish, a glass of soda and the inevitable cup of tea, which always seemed to be present in his vicinity.

He sat down beside Teresa on the end of the sofa in a spot not technically big enough for him, which pressed him into his lover. She made a bit more space for him moving closer to Cho, but cast him an irritated look anyway. "There are two perfectly suitable armchairs here, Jane," she stated.

"Yep," he retorted. "I'm sure they are very nice and all. But I think I'm more of a couch kind of guy," he declared with a straight face.

Cho snorted.

Teresa shook her head, but smiled anyway. She grabbed the last bite of the first of her three appetizers and was just about to put it in her mouth, when Patrick snapped it from her fingers with his teeth. "Jane! That was mine," she protested.

"Thought you wanted me to eat," he said with a challenging look.

"Get your own food," she scolded him half-heartedly.

"Well, I would have. But these," he indicated the remaining bruschetta on her plate, "are actually the only ones I could save." He grinned and pointed in the direction of their guest. "Cho here pulled a Rigsby on me. Ate ten of them."

Teresa cast a disapproving look at her subordinate. "Ten, Kimball?"

"I was hungry, boss. And they were pretty good," the Asian man said stony-faced.

Lisbon looked at him sternly.

"Well, pretty damn good," he deadpanned completely unfazed.

Teresa snickered.

They continued their meal, sharing mostly a light conversation, but Lisbon brought them up-to-date on the case as well. Patrick went on stealing bites from her fork and after a while she admitted defeat with a sigh and started to feed him every other bite voluntarily. To be honest, she really didn't mind. He'd brought an enormous portion of the pasta dish anyway and she was glad she got some food into him that way.

When they'd finished the main course, Jane produce some kind of home-made chocolate pudding for dessert. He apologized for the simplicity of the dish, claiming lack-of-time as the reason.

"Only you, Jane. Only you would apologize for something most people would either never manage to accomplish in the first place or take great pride in otherwise." Lisbon shook her head in exasperation. "But for what it's worth: I'm sure Cho and I are perfectly willing to forgive you, aren't we?" She cast her agent an inquiring look.

"Yes, Jane. But don't let it happen again," he said with a grin. And with a groan he added, "I'm not even sure I'm able to eat any dessert. I'm definitely not hungry anymore."

Patrick chuckled merrily. "Oh, there's always an empty spot in your stomach for things made of chocolate. Trust me, there's some kind of complicated evolutionary reason for it, but I won't bore you with scientific details," he explained mock-seriously.

Shortly after they'd finished the dessert, Cho got up to leave, as it was already after ten pm. At the door he turned and addressed Jane, "Thanks for the food, Patrick."

"Thanks for the company, Kimball," he answered. Both men cast each other a look of mutual understanding, conveying all the implied meanings as well.

* * *

"How are you doing, Patrick," Lisbon inquired, when they were finally alone.

"You've been asking me that a lot lately," was his only reply.

"That doesn't answer my question, Jane," she huffed.

"I'm not in the mood for talking," he stated neutrally.

She gave him a once over and sighed afterwards. "Alright, then don't talk. See if I care."

He came over to her and caressed her cheek gently. "Ah, come on, Lisbon. Don't be like that." He pecked her pursed lips. "I'm seriously not in the mood for talking. But I'm perfectly willing to show you I'm fine," he added suggestively.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for that," she muttered.

He shrugged and looked a little crestfallen.

"I'll be in the kitchen then. Have some cleaning to do." He turned to leave.

"Patrick?"

"Yes?" he answered, looking back at her with a hopeful expression.

"Ah, never mind. I'll be upstairs."

He nodded. Face falling and shoulders slacking as he padded away. He wasn't sure why she seemed to be so mad at him. He'd thought that she accepted his need for space and personal time to sort things out. And earlier she'd sounded alright.

Maybe inviting Cho over had been a mistake. She didn't often socialize with her subordinates, and by having someone over in her home he might have overstepped her boundaries. This was her apartment, after all. He was just a guest, he had to remind himself. He knew he had a bad habit of breaking into other people's privacy and behaving like he owned whatever place he happened to be in. And he'd even forced her into PDAs in front of the other man…

He decided that that must be it. She'd been polite and played the hostess as long as her colleague had been there, but now she didn't have to show such restraint any longer. And his refusal to talk about his feelings had probably just been the last straw.

He scolded himself for being an inconsiderate asshole and went along cleaning the kitchen of all traces of his cooking. Maybe he should leave her alone for the night. But she usually didn't like him doing that either. And to be honest, he didn't particularly feel like going back to the CBI and he didn't have anywhere else to go. Well, he could always wander the streets of course…

All this thinking only made him feel progressively worse about his behavior today. It was his usual pattern after all. Everything somehow ended up being his fault in his mind, and he over-analyzed every misdeed he'd supposedly committed that day. From being grumpy and not getting up at once after an all too short night, to letting his uncle get to him and making him lose his cool, to running off when Lisbon had explicitly told him this morning that she needed him at work. That he'd also managed to alienate his grandparents completely and prevented Cho from doing his job and abused Teresa's trust by inviting someone into her home without permission, only added to his ever growing list of sins.

By the time the kitchen was sparkling again, he'd beaten himself up entirely and was firmly convinced that Lisbon must be totally fed up with him by now and would surely break it up with him, maybe even already tonight. And it went without saying that in his mind he of course deserved it because he hadn't been worthy of her in the first place.

He switched off the light after finishing the last of his tidying. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he lingered listlessly in the dark kitchen. He was pretty sure she wouldn't want him anywhere near her, so going upstairs was out, though he longed to be close to her, maybe even hold her. But he'd screwed it up as usual and now he just had to live with the consequences.

He had known right from the start it would only be a matter of time before she saw reason, but he'd been stupid enough to hope, he'd at least be able to keep her a week or so. Well, five days were obviously the benchmark, five blissful days, give or take. One should probably subtract being stabbed and having one's father murdered by a sick psychopath from the blissful part.

* * *

With his hands resting on the frame of the sink, he was bent forward a bit and stared unseeingly out of the kitchen window into the night outside, the light from the street lamps illuminating him. He didn't even realize that silent tears were running down his face or that he was shaking slightly with anguish.

But Teresa could see it when she quietly entered the room. She'd been upstairs waiting impatiently for him to finish his chores. She'd felt a bit bad about brushing him off like she'd done. But truth be told, she'd really hoped he would share a bit of his feelings with her, after she'd worried so much about him for most of the day. She'd just meant to get back at him when she'd told him she wasn't in the mood for intimacy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. On the contrary, she'd been looking forward to jumping him and making love to him the minute he would come upstairs.

Unfortunately, he'd not come, and after a ridiculously long time had passed since she'd last heard any noises indicating he was still cleaning, she'd first become annoyed with him. She thought he made her wait out of petty revenge for her earlier words. After a while though worry had taken over and she'd decided to go looking for him. She'd seen that the kitchen light had been switched off when she came downstairs and didn't expect to find him in the dark room. But there he was. She could see the tear tracks on his face and his state of distress, though he didn't make a single sound.

With three long strides she crossed the distance and put her arms around his waist and pulled him firmly against her chest.

He flinched violently because he'd been deep in his mind and hadn't noticed her approach at all. She didn't let that faze her. She started to move her hands up and down his chest in a way she hoped he would find comforting and asked quietly, "What's the matter, Patrick? Why are you crying and why didn't you come upstairs? I was waiting for you."

He raised a hand to his face and touched his cheeks, only now realizing that they were indeed wet. "You were waiting for me?" he asked hoarsely. "I thought…" He stopped speaking again as a relieved sob got in the way.

She forced him to turn around, needing to see his eyes. "What did you think, Patrick?" she demanded to know.

He looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I didn't think you would want to see me again," he finally divulged sadly.

"What?" she exclaimed in complete confusion.

"Yeah. You know, because of all those dreadful things I've done today," he explained huskily.

She looked at him in honest disbelief. "The dreadful things you've done today?" She repeated his words in form of a question. "What the hell are you talking about, Patrick?"

"Everything," he said and started to enumerate all his bad deeds that had made it on the list of horrors his mind had come up with earlier, finishing of with his conclusion that she must be completely fed up with him by now and that he would fully understand it if she wanted to show him to the door.

* * *

When he stopped talking she hadn't known whether she should be angry or sad. She took some deep breaths to compose herself because even though she truly felt like lashing out at him, she knew that would only cause more harm. But his constant insecurities were wearing her down and she'd no real idea how to get through to him once and for all.

In the end she decided to show him her feelings on the matter. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the kitchen. "Come with me," were the only words she supplied in response to his rendition of - in her eyes – utter nonsense.

She was a bit proud of herself, and had to admit that Jane had taught her well, when she managed to perceive his slight misstep at the bottom of the stairs when the direction she was leading him in obviously deviated from the path he'd expected her to take, namely to the entrance door.

They continued up the stairs in silence. She led him into their bedroom and only broke the quiet to order him to get naked and lie down on the bed. Her voice didn't leave any room for debate, and even though he was utterly puzzled by now, he followed her request wordlessly. This was definitely as far off from his expectations as one could get.

He looked anxiously at her when he stood before her completely naked while she was still fully clad, albeit already in her sleeping attire. She just motioned for him to lie down in the middle of the bed and all too meekly for her taste, he followed her silent demand.

She took in the sight of him exposed like that on his back, the only thing marring the perfect picture being the bandage that covered his injured arm. God, how she loved this idiot! Now all that was left to do was the 'little' job of convincing HIM of that as well. Right now, this appeared to be an almost Herculean task.

Her eyes softened when she noticed how tense he was. She knelt down on the bed beside him and said softly, "Relax, Patrick," before she bent down and pressed her lips tenderly to his. She broke the kiss after a short moment and wiped away what she hoped to be a tear of relief from his cheek. She straddled him at the waist, keeping his arms restraint with her legs, and started to pepper his chest and face with kisses. Her hands weren't idle either. All in all, she was worshipping him much as he'd done her on several occasions.

Maybe she should have done this before. The realization hit her that she'd been unusually passive during their physical encounters so far. She wasn't normally like that. But Patrick had been such an attentive lover and had blown her away with his intensity and she'd mostly just let him sweep her along with him.

She decided that this had to change. She'd come to the conclusion that - as he was a very physical person, at least when it came to their relationship - this might just be the appropriate way of conveying the depths of her commitment to him. Words were obviously not doing the trick at all.

When she heard the first moan from him, she knew that it was a win-win situation in any case because the sound of his pleasure was such a turn-on for her.

Teasing his nipples with her tongue and teeth elicited an even louder moan and she continued with that for a while. He was rock-hard by now, his erection poking at her butt. She uncurled her upper body again and craned her head to find his lips with hers. They kissed hungrily. She could taste his arousal in his mouth. It was a deep and passionate kiss and she could feel him desperately trying to free his arms, probably to become a more active part in their encounter. But she didn't budge an inch. She wanted to call all the shots this time.

She buried her hands in his curls and massaged his scalp and pulling him closer at the same time, deepening their kiss even more. When she finally broke it, they were both gasping for breath.

She released his hair and caressed his cheeks instead, looking him deep in the eyes. "I love you, Patrick," she whispered intently. "Even though you're a complete moron sometimes."

"I resent that," he murmured half-heartedly. "The second part, that is. The first part, however, is just…"

"The plain truth," she stated with conviction. "Hopefully some day soon you'll actually believe that," she added gravely. "I want this," she indicated the both of them with a hand gesture, "to be forever, Patrick. This isn't some kind of fling for me where I just throw you out when the going gets tough."

"Are you proposing to me, Teresa? Because this sounded eerily like it," he asked, his voice raw with emotion, his eyes searching hers with longing.

She thought over her words and had to admit that her words could have been taken as a kind of vow, and even if it left her momentarily scared, she realized she could get used to the idea easily. "Well, I didn't actually plan for it to come out like that, but if you want to perceive it that way…"

He had enough of being restraint now. With great effort he freed his arms and pulled her head down into another deep kiss, nearly devouring her. "I love you," he breathed into her mouth when they broke their lip-lock.

Making full use of his new freedom, he held her face firmly between his hands so she was forced to look him in the eyes. "Call me old-fashioned, but I'm gonna be the one to propose, Teresa," he said seriously. "I'll just consider your earlier words as you saying yes ex ante to my future question."

He took a deep breath. One of his hands started playing with some strands of her hair absent-mindedly. She could feel that he wanted to say more, so she kept her silence. It was hard though because she was so elated that he'd all but promised her that he would marry her some day.

Finally he seemed ready to speak again. His voice sounded rather sheepish though. "I apologize, Teresa. For doubting you, or us like that. I don't know why my mind comes up with all those scenarios where you throw me out." He caressed her cheek. "I'm so damn scared of losing you that I obviously do everything to sabotage this and hence turn it into a self-fulfilling prophesy. Pretty crazy, I know." She gave him an encouraging nod to go on with his explanation. "What I told you down in the kitchen, it was very real in my mind. I was completely convinced I'd drawn the only logical conclusions." He sighed heavily. He looked at her seriously. "Let me guess, I was totally off with my assumptions?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Patrick. Completely and utterly. There was absolutely nothing about what you presented me with as evidence for your so-called dreadful deeds that I'd even considered as wrongful actions. I was actually proud of your behavior during almost all of the day. Well, re-injuring your arm wasn't part of it. But other than that? Nothing wrong."

He shook his head sadly. "Guess there is something pretty messed up in my mind."

"Ah, don't pull such a face, Jane. I've known that for years. Good news is – we'll be working on it together from now on." Teresa tried to lighten the mood, afraid he would just switch over to his self-loathing-channel if she didn't nip it in the bud.

He gave her a half-smile for her effort but stayed serious when he spoke up again, "Promise me something, Teresa." She nodded. "Promise me you won't let me jeopardize this with my stupid insecurities," he pleaded.

"Yes, imp. I promise you that. I love you," she said sincerely.

"I love you too, Teresa. With all my heart."

She kissed him gently this time. "I know that, Patrick. It's a bit tragic, actually, but it's exactly your absurd behavior that makes it rather plain to see." She pecked him on the nose. "To be honest, I had my doubts when you declared your love for me five days ago. I have to admit that. I thought I'd be second-best to at least your obsession, maybe even to your wife."

She had to swallow heavily at that, her own fears making themselves known. He sensed that immediately and pulled her closer. A smile spread on her face at the gesture and she continued, "See, that's what I mean. It was entirely unnecessary to worry about that. I would have never thought it possible, but I am convinced now, totally convinced, that you mean what you said." Her expression conveyed her awe. "You know I have my own insecurities. I hoped but I never ever expected to be enough for you to readjust your priorities. But now I simply know it. You honestly mean it."

Her smile could have brightened a black hole.

"Yes, I do," he stated matter-of-factly, his face showing a rare amount of openness.

"Now all that's left to do is convince you of the same then, Patrick." She poked him in the chest.

"Good luck, Teresa," he replied, deliberately repeating the exact words that had preceded his first ever declaration of love to her.

"Well, don't shoot me, Jane."

They grinned at each other.

* * *

"Mhm, Teresa? I know it's getting late, but are we actually going to finish what you started earlier or did you plan to leave me woefully unsatisfied?" he asked.

"You want to have sex now?" she inquired, her raised brows showing her disbelief.

"Uhuh," he agreed.

She contemplated his request a bit. It was rather late and they needed their sleep, but his hopeful expression was a convincing argument and truth be told - she longed for it as well. Remembering her earlier thoughts about showing him her commitment physically, she decided to suggest some kind of compromise to him.

"Okay, but only if we play it by my rules, Jane," she said strictly.

"That sounds a bit ominous, Lisbon. What rules?" he questioned a bit hesitantly.

"Do you trust me, Patrick?" she asked earnestly, searching his eyes.

"Yes," he answered without any hesitation this time.

"Then allow me to cuff your hands to the headboard," she said quickly.

"What? Why?" he replied totally baffled.

"That's a stupid question. I'm sure you already know the answer. But if you need me to say it: I want you to give up control, Patrick. Let me take care of you," she explained patiently.

She saw some glints of fear and insecurity in his eyes but finally he nodded. "Alright. But if… I mean… would you… if it gets to be too much… I mean…" his voice trailed away.

Teresa kissed him gently. "Of course, Patrick. That's what trusting me implies. I'll make sure you're okay. I promise, I won't hurt you, love."

* * *

She got off the bed and went to the bathroom to retrieve the pants she'd been wearing today. Her handcuffs should be attached to them still. She knew this was maybe a bit mean, to test him this way after the day he'd had. But she hoped it would be a liberating experience for him.

After she'd found what she'd been looking for, she returned to the bedroom. Now his face was an unreadable mask to her. She walked over to him confidentially. "Lay down, please. Arms above your head." She tried not to sound like a cop arresting a suspect but she had to admit, the words and her tone were still a dead give-away of her occupation. Not only to her, obviously, because Jane cast her a knowing look.

She was happy to realize that this was actually helping to ease the mood. His expression had definitely turned teasing. "Kinky, Lisbon," he promptly chaffed, but still followed her order.

Cuffing him like that was a bit awkward, she decided. She'd done it once before to prevent him from bunking on Friday night, when they'd come home from their night out with his friends in the _Fir Tree_. But back then it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing and their relationship had been a totally different one. Furthermore, it had turned out to be a very bad idea considering he'd reacted with an anxiety attack, or, if one counted the avalanche it had initiated leading to their present situation with them finally being involved romantically, it had in fact been a splendid one. She was still undecided. She regretted hurting him in the first place but she couldn't say that she was in any way sorry about their changed status.

She took great care not to hurt his injured arm, which was a bit difficult since the slash was relatively close to his wrist. Stepping back a bit, she admired her handiwork. Bending forward, she traced his sternum lightly with the tip of her fore finger. He shuddered. "You are beautiful, Patrick," she whispered seductively. "I love your body." She knelt down beside him on the bed and continued to touch him lightly, moving down the inside of first one leg, then up the other. He moaned and she watched him harden. "You're very responsive. Few men are. I like that," she told him.

"Teresa, I.." he moaned.

"Hush, Patrick." She put a finger on his lips to stop him. "Don't talk, just feel."

He was still a bit tense. Her finger left his lips and traveled down to his erection. She traced his shaft lightly with the nail of her fore finger, from the bulb up to the glans. He arched off the bed, panting, and she was very satisfied with herself because THIS was the kind of tension she'd been aiming for. His eyes were closed, his features showed only arousal. She decided to repeat the process with her tongue this time. "Aaaahhhh," he groaned.

"You are mine, Patrick Jane," she whispered huskily. "And you are definitely a keeper."

She pinched one of his nipples carefully, while she tongued the other. He was very sensitive in that area she knew. She heard him whimper and decided that this was as far as she would get tonight.

"We'll do that again, when we have more time," she told him. "I want to uncover every inch of you."

She could hear a hitch in his breathing and took that as a sign of consent.

"Open your eyes, Patrick," she demanded and he did so at once.

She pulled her shirt over her head and he watched her intently, following every movement with his eyes. She could see his yearning to touch her, had even noticed he'd forgotten the restraints for a second when his right hand had twitched on the cuff unintentionally. That's when she knew he'd really gotten into the moment, had switched off his formidable mind for once and was just feeling. It filled her with joy.

She lost her sleep pants as well and climbed on top of him. He was still observing her with hungry eyes. She took hold of his erection, covered it with a condom she'd kept close by, and guided it to her entrance. His groans turned into an outright cry when she finally penetrated herself with his shaft. She moaned loudly as well, relishing the feeling of being so intimately connected with him.

Her movements were short and easy at first; though she knew they didn't have the time to protract this tonight, she didn't want it to be over at once. And if her own state was any indication, then he must be very close as well. She got her confirmation when she noticed he was about to regulate his breathing. "No, Patrick. No tricks tonight. Just go with the flow, okay?"

He nodded and she increased both the pace and the range of her movements. She started to touch herself, her breasts and her clit, and she could see how much that affected him, brought him to the brink. He became completely undone, his panting grew frantic and with a last, uncontrolled cry of pleasure he came deep inside of her and she succumbed to her own orgasm as well at the beautiful sight of him.

* * *

She had to accept that she couldn't keep his drooping penis inside of her with a used condom and with a disappointed sigh, she released him and stretched out on top of him instead. With great satisfaction she noticed that he was only half-conscious. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him deeply. It took a moment before he responded, indicating that he'd indeed been wiped out. Propping herself up, she grinned at him happily, reached out for the key she'd deposited beside them on the bed and opened the handcuffs. His arms came around her immediately holding her close.

"I love you, Teresa," he said, voice raw with emotion.

"And I love you, Patrick. Do us both a favor and commit that bit of information to a prominent place in your memory palace," she replied, the last part added with emphasis and her eyes full of warmth.

"I'll try to do that," he replied seriously, one of his hands putting an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear.

"At least talk to me next time, before you come up with all that absurd nonsense in your mind, imp." She gave him another kiss.

* * *

Meanwhile Wednesday had turned into Thursday, and their kiss was unintentionally cut short by a deep yawn from her. He grinned at her and caressed her cheek. "Guess, we should catch some sleep now. That horrible alarm of yours will go off in about six hours."

She groaned. "Yeah, off to the bathroom then. I need to brush my teeth – you too." She moved to get up.

"I don't know I'd be much of a help. I'd say you'll manage fine on your own," he teased, but got up as well.

"Insufferable smart-ass," she replied and gave him a sounding slap on his naked behind.

"Hey!" he yelped. "That was an act of police malpractice against an innocent civilian."

She snickered, grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, pulling him with her to the bathroom. "You're only noticing that now?" She raised her brows. "I had you in handcuffs ten minutes ago. Though I don't know about the innocent part. I'm sure I can find some stains on your waistcoat, Mister."

"Oh, I stained you alright, ten minutes ago, Agent Lisbon," he teased her cheekily.

She blushed and giggled a bit. "God, Jane. You are such a pig sometimes." She stood up on her toes and pecked him on the nose.

They went about their business side by side and she didn't even notice until after the fact, when he stood before her grinning merrily, that she'd actually used the toilet in front of him without any awkwardness. And she couldn't for the life of her remember why this had been such a big deal for her in the first place.

Five minutes later they were back in bed with him spooning her like the night before. Unlike then, they both fell asleep shortly after.

* * *

**TBC**

**As I granted you an extra long chapter, I hope you'll grant me extra many reviews. It would be really nice to find all your lovely messages in my mailbox when I come back from my trip...**


	26. Chapter 26

**I'm back from Hong Kong. I had a great time, though it was utterly exhausting as well - I slept over twelve hours after coming home. So much to see and do and so little time to accomplish it. And finally a place where getting delicious tea everywhere you go is a given! I took quite a bit along with me, some Oolong to die for as well as Osmanthus and Jasmine tea. I know a certain someone, who'd very much appreciated it there as well...  
**

**Anyway, thanks for all your kind reviews in my absence. I'll try to answer them all, but I thought you'd prefer to get a new chapter first. So here we go. You'll notice that it's a bit different in style, because I'm mostly recounting events. This'll also hold true for the next one. I'll be going back to my usual way of writing after that.**

**Warning: Sexual content.**

* * *

During the next days, things calmed down a bit in the lives of Patrick and Teresa. At first, it had still been rather busy at work. Checking the wardens' duty roster, they'd found out who'd slipped the sedative into Alex Jane's evening meal in prison. But as the guilty guard had been bribed by Keen, no new leads had come up that way. Other than being corrupt, the guy had turned out clean enough.

On a more personal note, Patrick had spoken to his grandparents the day after their last, disastrous meeting and the old Jane couple had managed to convince their grandson that they still wanted to get to know him - more than ever in fact. He'd met them for lunch a few times and they had plans to go to the opera together on Wednesday night the next week. Even Uncle Matthew had called and apologized profoundly for his horrible behavior and told Patrick he would very much like to try for a fresh start, if Patrick was amenable, and that his wife and children were very curious about the new family member as well. He'd also written a public letter of apology, which had been posted in the bullpen, and at Patrick's insistence, Teresa had hushed things up, so there wouldn't be any legal consequences for Matthew.

Furthermore, the consultant had taken some time to sort through all the events that had happened and the feelings and emotions connected to them. Things had been a bit slow-going for him at work, so he'd used the freedom to either retreat to his hide-out in the attic or take long solitary walks and do some serious thinking and re-adjusting. He had tried to involve Teresa in the process and had made a habit of sharing at least parts of his insights with her in the evenings. It had helped him actually, especially when he had been stuck in some way, to discuss it with her. After all, she knew him very well and was always willing to give him honest and supportive advice or challenge his views. This held particularly true for those cases in which he had fallen back into his old patterns of self-loathing and blaming himself.

Teresa on the other hand had started to share some of her own insecurities with him, often in an attempt to show him that she understood him. At least that was how it had started. She'd quickly realized just how disburdening it was, to talk with someone about her childhood, the problems she had with her brothers, and the sadness connected with the fact that her relationship with her brothers was so strained. Patrick had turned out to be a good listener and his advice had been sound. With his encouragement she'd even brought herself to call each of her siblings and had been able to mend a few fences.

* * *

Mostly their talks had been happening in bed and were preceded by some intense lovemaking. Their desire for each other had only seemed to increase with every day and on one memorable occasion Lisbon had even made them be late for work. She of course still claimed that it had been entirely Patrick's fault, but he kept telling her that no jury in the world would agree with her. She had countered that argument by insisting that any jury in the world which consisted of over 50% females and/or gays wouldn't possibly lay any blame on her. It had all started with Patrick having a VERY bad morning:

First, Lisbon's alarm was extra loud and devious after yet another much too short night, then she pulled the comforter off the bed when she got up, leaving him freezing. When he finally forced himself out of bed, his eyes were still in sleep-mode and naturally he first run into the closet door Teresa had left open and then bumped his toe on the drawer beside the door.

Cursing, he staggered to the bathroom and into the shower where the shampoo promptly decided to become his mortal enemy by getting in his already bleary eyes, which led to him bumping his head on the shower wall. That it turned out to be a bad hair day with his curls doing whatever they wanted no matter how much he tried to tame them, and that he cut himself while shaving goes without saying.

He then had to change out of his favorite shirt because it had sustained a blood stain from his cut, and since he urgently needed to do his laundry, he was stuck with one he didn't like at all. So by the time he made it down to the kitchen, he was the most pathetic picture of desolation Teresa had ever seen: Both his shirt and vest were wrongly buttoned, his curls stood on end, he was squinting and, most prominently, pouting like there was no tomorrow. She found him irresistibly endearing.

"Jane? You need to clean up a bit. You are a mess," was the first thing she told him, teasing him with nearly the exact words she'd used on him nine years ago at their first meeting. Then she laughed her head off. He turned on his heels, grumbling about her being mean and how he was going back to bed because the universe was out to get him today due to some cosmic conspiracy. And then he stumbled up the stairs again with as much dignity as possible, which, in Lisbon's opinion at least, wasn't that much.

She followed him, partly to taunt him some more and partly to make sure he didn't hurt himself any further. After entering the bedroom, she told him very clearly that he couldn't go back to sleep. And then he stood before her, puppy-dog eyes alternatingly looking at her and the bed with longing, and she was unable to resist. She jumped him, pushed him onto the bed, and ravished him with sudden urge.

In her haste she ruined his last clean shirt, having no patience for all the stupid buttons on it, and she took great pleasure tousling his curls even more. The sex was rough, wild, and unrestricted because she was so immensely turned on by his disgruntled state and he had had a frustrating morning so far.

After they'd both reached their releases, they spent some time sharing avid, open mouthed kisses, nearly devouring each other, which turned into another round of love-making, albeit a tamer one this time.

When they were both finally sated, she insisted they take another shower - together. He warned her that that wouldn't be a good idea, but followed her lead. This resulted in round number three and Patrick's instant reconciliation with both the shower stall and his shampoo.

Afterwards it had taken some serious convincing on Teresa's part to make him do the unthinkable and go to work wearing only a t-shirt under his three-piece-suit. So by the time they made it to HQ, it was already almost 10 am and they got quite a few surprised looks from their teammates. Lisbon mumbled something about checking out a lead on the way, but her faint blush ruined the effect of her lie completely.

Patrick just rolled his eyes at her obvious inability to fib even the slightest bit. And when asked about his lack of proper outfit, he used his answer to get her out of the line of fire. He promptly spun an elaborate, completely outrageous tale about a suspect trying to bunk and him heroically both chasing and tackling the dangerous man destroying his last clean shirt in the process, and all attention was pulled from Teresa immediately. She escaped to her office half-way through his rendition with a bright smile on her face and the firm conviction that she'd just fallen in love with him all over again.

* * *

In regards to their investigation of Alex Jane's murder, they were stuck waiting for the results from the secret DNA analysis and trying to get new information out of Keen. Patrick had conducted several interviews with him, but after the one following their initial questioning of him, he'd clammed up completely. Jane was still trying to find out why because he'd been convinced he'd cracked Keen during their second talk.

Obviously the man had revealed something important during that time, which had scared him so much he'd decided not to talk at all anymore. But Patrick couldn't for the life of him figure out what it had been, though he'd gone over the whole conversation hundreds of times, repeating it in his head word for word as if it was happening right now, so he wouldn't miss anything important. It had played out like this:

"Patrick! So nice of you to visit me again. And another tea – how considerate of you," Keen greeted him.

"Sorry to disappoint, but the tea's all mine, Little John. Nothing for you, I'm afraid," Patrick answered coldly and took a seat beside him like during their first interview, and once again Lisbon sat facing them both.

"Don't call me that, you bastard," the mole predictably protested.

Jane cast him a sideways glance, smirking in his face. "My offer still stands, Little John. You address me with respect and I just might be convinced to do you the same courtesy – or not."

Keen turned red with anger, which Patrick immediately commented on, telling him that now he even looked like a Little _Red_ John.

"You're nothing but an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, Jane. I don't see what's so special about you. You're just a sad, bitter man, nothing special," their suspect ranted.

"I've never claimed otherwise, Little John. But it certainly seems to be a sour spot for you. Are you jealous of me, maybe?" Patrick taunted him.

Keen boiled with anger after that. "Jealous? Of you? Never!" he spat.

"Ah, I guess we can safely assume I'm right then. Green-eyed like our Agent Lisbon here, just not so beautiful, I'm afraid." Jane decided to rub more salt in this particular wound. This earned him a rather deadly glare from his lover as well, but he could live with that.

"No, I'm not. And I don't see a real reason why I should be. I can't understand why he talks about you like that all the time. You're just an ordinary man," the SacPD officer tried to taunt him back.

"So he talks about me all the time? That must be tedious. I understand your discontentment. Though, compared with you, I guess I must be pretty remarkable, huh, Little John?" Patrick smirked at that.

Keen was seething. "Stop calling me that. I'm fed up with it. Fed up with you." He rolled his eyes. "_My Patrick this_ and _my Patrick that_, all the time. You're practically the only thing he talks about these days. I can't stand it anymore. Why the hell does he love you so much?" he asked.

"Love me? Come on. That's absurd." Patrick answered.

"No, it's the truth. He loves you. Not like the primitive fling you have with your cop whore here. No, his love for you transcends ordinary human categories," Red John's disciple explained earnestly, sounding like he was reciting his master's words.

Jane shook his head and chuckled. "Gosh, Little John. You are one messed up puppy. You really believe that bullshit? I can assure you, I'm certainly not keen on – sorry for the pun – his supernatural kind of affection. I'm really sorry he doesn't concentrate his feelings of fondness on people who'd actually appreciate his sick advances - people like you."

"You are a moron, Jane. You should be honored, a great man like him has taken an interest in you." Keen looked at him with envy. "He would be willing to share his empire with you. He'd lead you to real greatness, reform you, develop your potential. If you have as much of that as he claims you have. I would give anything to have that. You just threw it in his face in Vegas. And _still_ he loves you." He lowered his head, his dismay obvious.

"You know what, Little John? Most people would be elated to know they are not the object of some sick affection from some deranged, psychopathic serial killer, and I would certainly count myself among them, though unfortunately I don't have that luxury." He sighed heavily. "I'd say there's something seriously wrong with your perception of the world, Mr. Keen. You might want to meditate on that for a while." And with an evil grin he added, "Or you might want to talk it over with your boss at some point. Tell him you feel neglected. I'm sure some fun with one of his knives would make you feel a whole lot better about yourself."

"He's your boss, too, Patrick. And her's as well." He indicated Lisbon. "You shouldn't forget that," their suspect answered.

"I think not, Little John. I'm my own man, and though my life's certainly been influenced by his actions, he's definitely not my boss," Jane answered with absolute conviction.

Keen grinned in his face at that. "That just shows how little you know, Patrick," he taunted.

"Oh, I know enough to be sure of that. Lisbon? This is getting rather boring again. I'm out of here. I really hope we'll get another case soon. He's not a challenge of the same mold I'm used to. The CBI's not paying me for this kind of trifle," Patrick said in a blasé tone.

"Well, Jane, that's part of your job description as well, I'm afraid," Lisbon answered playing along with him, rolling her eyes at his arrogance.

Their suspect laughed evilly at that and said, "She's right, you know, Patrick?"

Jane just got up from his chair, shrugged and moved to the door. "Too bad. In that case: maybe we'll meet again, Little John. Not if I can avoid it, but hey, if it's in the job description…"

* * *

He'd left then and Lisbon had followed him out. They'd reconvened in her office and agreed that they'd certainly made some headway. This was one malcontent disciple and his obvious jealousy was the perfect angle from which to crack him even more.

"But this whole love-nonsense is rather creepy. Didn't I tell you that note he left with Alex's body sounded eerily like a love letter?" Patrick had added with a disgusted shudder.

"Oh, but it's a higher kind of love that transcends what we have, Patrick," she'd teased him.

The door and the blinds in her office had been closed, so he'd dared to embrace her and had whispered seductively in her ear, "I'm not sure I would survive something even higher, my dear. This is already nearly transcending my imagination as it is."

They'd shared a short but passionate kiss and gone back to work afterwards with promises of later things to come.

After that, Keen hadn't so much as uttered one word during Patrick's interrogations other than asking for tea.

* * *

**TBC**

**I'd love to hear from you again, so review, review, review... ;-)  
**


	27. Chapter 27

**Warning: Explicit sexual content in this one plus some angst...  
**

* * *

That week they worked the whole Saturday, because they caught another case late on Friday – a kidnapping, which had started with the murder of servant at the house of the victim, hence the involvement of the homicide team. Fortunately, it turned out to be a clear cut, or rather Jane turned it into a clear cut, revealing the perp already on Saturday night due to some peculiarities no one but him had spotted in the victim's home, which had led to an immediate arrest and the healthy return of the abducted woman.

It had been a high profile case because the victim had been a senator's daughter, and since the man obviously was a close friend of Bertram, there'd been a press conference on Sunday morning, where Jane, to his utter dismay, had been forced to accept the public gratitude and a generous check for the CBI from the politician. Even Director Bertram himself had been all smiles towards their consultant for once and had shaken his hand eagerly in front of the cameras.

So when they finally made it home on Sunday just after noon, Patrick was already thoroughly disgruntled and they had their first major fight. Teresa insisted she would drive him to a hospital after a quick shower, so he could have the bandage on his arm changed, while Patrick made it clear he wouldn't see a doctor and that it had already been a week since his injury and he had only been asked to have it looked at for the first five days. She pointed out that he'd been stupid enough to re-injure himself on Wednesday and that the five days had started anew because of that. And it had only gone downhill from there.

He told her to mind her own business and that she wasn't a doctor anyway, and she called him a stubborn, immature idiot who couldn't even look after himself. He called her a domineering control freak and made it clear he didn't need or want a mother and that she should go and nag someone else for a change like her brothers, who obviously appreciated it just as much as he did.

He regretted his vicious words the moment he uttered them and tried to apologize profoundly at once, but the damage had already been done. She was so hurt, so furious, she actually slapped him in the face strong enough for his nose to start bleeding.

* * *

They stood in front of each other afterwards, both shocked beyond words about the escalation. Teresa stomped up the stairs and barricaded herself in the bedroom. He cleaned himself up a bit at the kitchen sink and left the apartment to cool down.

He walked around for two hours and made a trip to the hospital to have his arm re-bandaged out of remorse as well. As usual, he started to blame himself for the whole fight immediately and only the memory of her asking him to always remember how much she loved him had stopped him from the imminent conclusion that this would be the final straw that broke the camel's back.

He was still afraid of going back and facing her, and like a coward he sat on the steps in front of her apartment for hours, not finding the courage to enter. She was the one to finally call him on his cell phone, asking were the hell he was. When he told her, she opened the door and stood before him shaking her head in exasperation.

"Come on in, wimp," she told him, and he followed her inside with slumped shoulders and hanging head, looking like a wretch. She decided to let him off the hook at the sight of it and initiated a reluctant hug, which he returned fiercely.

"We need to talk," she said afterwards. "Sit down on the couch, I'll make tea."

He nodded and followed her orders, fearful of what she would have to say and expecting the worst.

She came back with a whole tea service including a plate with chocolate cookies and asked, "What was this all really about, Patrick?" while preparing him a cup the way she knew he liked it.

"I honestly don't know, Teresa. I'm truly sorry I said those awful things." He looked at her with sad and serious eyes. "I know I betrayed your trust, using such a tender point you've entrusted me with against you like this. I don't know what came over me." He looked down again shamefully. "I didn't even mean it. I'm… I mean, I actually like it, that you look out for me like this." He played nervously with his fingers before he added quietly, "Even though you're a tiny bit too fussy sometimes."

She sat down on the sofa beside him, took a hold of one of his jittery hands and started to draw calming circles on the back of it with her thumb. "I was a bit bossy, I admit that. I know you're an adult and that I have to respect your decisions. But somehow when it comes to your health, you're so damn stubborn and unreasonable. It irritates the hell out of me." She cast him a huffy look at that. Her other hand then came carefully up to his slightly swollen cheek, caressing it very tenderly. "And I'm truly sorry for slapping you. That was really unforgivable. I don't ever want to have that kind of violence in our relationship, Patrick."

He interrupted her at that point. "But I deserved it, really. Don't worry, it's no big deal."

She looked at him sadly and shook her head then. "No, Patrick. It's totally unacceptable and inappropriate. No matter what you might have said and how much you hurt me with it, violence should never be the answer. I'll have to work on that."

"But…" he tried to object.

"No, love. There's really no 'but' here. Just because we've both been victims of physical violence during our childhood doesn't mean we have to continue in this pattern. I'm ashamed of myself. I never want to be like that, lashing out when the emotional pain gets to be too much." She locked eyes with him at that point and tried to convey her seriousness. "I don't want to become my father, Patrick. I AM NOT like my father, but today I behaved a lot like him and I don't like it at all."

"Okay, maybe what you did wasn't right, Teresa. But I forgive you. I know I have a way with words, and they can hurt more than slaps. That's violence, too, love. And you're the last person I want to hurt." He cupped one of her cheeks gently as well and looked at her with honest regret and a deep yearning. "Do you… I mean, can we put this behind us? Can you forgive me, please?" he pleaded.

She leant in for a kiss and whispered against his lips, "I already have, Patrick," before she closed the last gap between them and pressed her mouth against his, her tongue pushing for entrance at once. He welcomed her eagerly and they made out on the couch for a while, both incredibly relieved they'd survived their first real quarrel as a couple.

* * *

Later they shared some freshly brewed tea and she made another attempt to find out why he'd reacted so negatively to her suggestion to see a doctor. She took one of his hands and intertwined their fingers and inquired, "Patrick? Will you tell me where this deep distrust and fear of doctors comes from? Maybe if I knew, we could avoid situations like today in the future."

"It wasn't only that. I was already on edge because of this damn PR-stand Bertram pulled on us. That man makes me want to destroy something whenever he steps in front of a camera, or in general to be honest. And all that hand-shaking and smiling and him pretending I was his golden boy, though we both know he hates my guts – especially since our little hanky-panky with the FBI. Ick!" His face showed his utter disgust, making her chuckle. "I guess you just added insult to injury – or in this case, injury to insult." He grinned. "Sorry, bad pun."

She nodded. "Yes, I knew you were a bit grumpy and I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I should at least have given you some time to calm down. I'm aware of your dislike of anything connected to medical facilities after all." She squeezed his hand. "Which brings me back to my initial question. Would you please trust me with the real reasons?"

Patrick sighed deeply. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" She shook her head. "This is not an easy topic for me, Teresa," he started his explanation. Then he fixed himself another cup of tea and sat back on the couch, pulling his flexed legs up, spanning them with his arms, one hand balancing his tea mug on one of his knees, so his extremities would act as some kind of protective shield. That was at least the way Lisbon construed the pose. She sat back as well and put one of her arms around his shoulder, her hand gently playing with the short curls at his neck. It was a rather awkward position for her with him being so much taller than her. But at that moment it was the only way to have any kind of physical contact with him.

And then he told her with an almost detached voice about one chapter of his life he was very much ashamed of. Of his total break-down six months after the murder of his family. How he'd spent the first half year in Las Vegas – she'd flinched at that – in a state not unlike his latest sojourn there. And how things had come to a head when he'd watched a family very much like his own on the day that had marked the half-anniversary of Angela's and Charlotte's death.

The mother, father and daughter had enjoyed a picnic at a park in the sunny weather and he'd walked up to them, pestered them, trying to sit with them on their blanket, scaring the girl in the process, until the parents had threatened to call the police. He'd told them he didn't care and that he wanted to die anyway because he'd killed his family.

He'd broken down into hysterical crying afterwards and the father had guided him away and called an ambulance. The worried and kind man had told the paramedics that he was obviously suicidal and from that moment on he'd been kept restrained and sedated almost constantly. What he could remember from that time was having been trapped permanently inside the nightmares in his head because of the drugs, and his panicked fighting against the straps on his arms whenever he'd been able to regain even the slightest bit of consciousness, which always led to him being pumped full of psychotropics once again.

Patrick was moving his torso back and forth in a nervous gesture during his whole tale. His eyes were distant and pain-filled, silent tears escaping them, and Teresa's heart reached out to him. She continued to gently caress his sensitive neck, hoping to ground him a bit.

Composing himself a little, he then told her about feeling utterly helpless and out of control. He confessed to her how very close he'd been to really losing his mind at that point. Fortunately, Sophie Miller had taken over his case after two weeks of this horror. She'd put him off the drugs apart from some anti-depressants and he'd slowly come back to reality after that.

With eyes full of shame he entrusted her with further details. That Sophie hadn't even knocked him out again when he'd painted his nightmares on the wall of his hospital room in his own blood. She'd appeared to him like a saving angel at the time and today he was rather sure that had been the deciding factor for his trust in her. In hindsight, he was realistic enough to admit that he wouldn't have been quite as open for her counseling had the circumstances been different. But she'd actually managed to help him back on his feet.

* * *

At this point in his tale, he relaxed his body enough so Teresa was able to pull him into an embrace. It ended with him sitting sideways on the couch with his legs outstretched and her sitting on his lap, straddling him, holding him close, his head pressed against her chest, with her hand tousling his hair.

After a while, he continued to speak, very quietly, his ear resting on the left side of her torso, the sound of her heartbeat calming him. He told her that after some very serious thinking during the last days he realized that Sophie hadn't done such a great job after all. She should have figured out that it hadn't been such a splendid idea to release someone out of her care and into the public whose only newfound reason for living had been the thought of taking revenge. Who'd in fact only transformed a part of his fundamental self-hatred and suicidal thoughts into an unhealthy obsession for vengeance.

But he had to admit that she would've had a hard time seeing through his act. The minute he'd regained control of his mind again, he'd played the psychiatrist. He'd said and done exactly what she had wanted to hear and see. Had been a model patient, especially because he'd been scared to death they might've start sedating him again if he hadn't done exactly as he had been told.

Patrick and Teresa made love on the sofa afterwards, very slowly and gently, and she thanked him profoundly for his openness and trust, and especially for his remarkable leap of faith when he'd allowed her to cuff him to the bed a few days earlier. She first now really understood what this must have cost him, and she felt honored and awed by it. Only then did it dawn on her why he'd been so utterly vulnerable and anxious about his mental state on that Friday night just over a week ago, when she'd restraint him the first time. It explained his near panic attack all too well.

"I trust you, Teresa," he whispered in her ear during slow thrusts into her core. "You're the only person I trust," he confessed. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Patrick. And I'll never nag you about seeing a doctor again," she answered breathlessly, close to coming.

He stopped his movements then, keeping her on edge. "I don't want you to change who you are, Teresa. Never do that. I don't want you any other way, even if you might annoy me with being too fussy once in a while." He touched her clit very lightly with one of his fingers, increasing her arousal until she could barely stand it but not enough to push her over. She was nearly incoherent when he ordered, "Promise me you won't change, Teresa." In her state, she was only able to nod helplessly and he both thrust into her and touched her directly afterwards, making her explode and see stars.

When she regained her faculties again, she scolded him a bit for playing her like that. "You know that nothing I say in such a state can ever be used against me, don't you?"

He only chuckled and proceeded to promptly arouse her again, still buried deep inside of her. "I don't expect this to go to court, my dear. So I'm feeling rather safe right now."

She moaned loudly, both cursing and loving him for his ability to manipulate her like this. "You're going to kill me, Jane, I'm sure of it. You're entirely too good at this," she pressed out between groans.

He told her that she was still much too coherent for his taste and drove her absolutely crazy once again, until she turned into a boneless mass around him.

When she'd recovered this time, she continued to pretend she was still out. Using the element of surprise, she then suddenly flipped them over to get on top of things. "Two can play that game, Jane," she threatened him. She knew of course that if he really wished to do so he was able to turn the tables again in no time, but he readily let her take over.

It still amazed her how willingly he surrendered the control to her. After all she'd learned about him during the last week, she'd gained a great understanding for his constant distrust and his urge to be on top of things at all times – or maybe not all the time, considering where she was at that very moment.

She started to push all of his buttons then and he turned into putty in her hands very quickly. Deciding that payback was indeed a bitch, she left him wanting at the last moment and asked him, "Now Patrick, tell me: how was sex with Angela?"

The poor man gazed at her in complete bewilderment, panting for breath. "What?" he finally cried out.

"Sex, Patrick, with your wife. How was it?" she inquired once more.

He gained at least a bit more control of his faculties when he stammered helplessly, "Have you…lo… lost your mind, Teresa? Are you really…. I mean, do you honestly… Now? You… you're asking me this now? Seriously? I… I can't… I… I'm sorry."

Lisbon snickered evilly at that point and whispered in his ear, "Revenge IS sweet, Patrick," before finally making him come.

When he started to cry afterwards, she turned remorseful though. She thought she'd pushed him too far and apologized. But he only pulled her into a deep kiss and told her afterwards, "Don't worry. I'm just so happy. I never thought it could ever be like this again. That I'd be lucky enough to find this a second time." He cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes, "In a way it was a lot like this, Teresa. My wife, she was just as playful as you are. She never let me get away with anything. But it was completely different at the same time. Just like you two in general: both strong and stubborn and beautiful, but still so unique, each of you." And very earnestly he added, "But that's as far as I'll ever get to comparing you. Never force me to do that. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. I love you both, with all my heart, but she is my past and you are my present and my future. And I'm a different man as well today."

"You're still essentially the same man, Patrick. But I understand what you mean. Thank you for your honesty and, once again, for your openness. You didn't need to tell me. I only wanted to shock you a bit, truth be told. I never even expected you to answer," she admitted a bit sheepishly.

"And it was nicely played, Lisbon. Nicely played indeed." He chuckled. "I've taught you well."

* * *

"Patrick?" she started a while later.

"Hmh?"

"You played a very dangerous game when you returned to Vegas. You do know that, don't you? Because from what I know about your state right now, you weren't too far from a real breakdown when you left. It could very well have ended in an even greater disaster, and with all those old memories to boot…" She shook her head and frowned.

"But that was the beauty of it, Teresa. He's kept track of me ever since he killed my family. He knows what happened there the first time around. In many ways, he's actually quite predictable. He even gave me the exact six months of my first stay, before he made contact. That's what I counted on and it worked like a charm," he explained with pride.

She huffed at that. "You're an idiot, Jane. It very nearly cost you your sanity, not to mention your life. Fortunately something like that won't ever happen again because I'd drag you back by your ear."

"You would, wouldn't you?" he replied with a happy grin.

"Kicking and screaming, the whole way if necessary," she confirmed with determination, warmth and love shining from her eyes.

And that had been the end of their first real fight and they spent the small rest of their Sunday just lazing around, cuddling and talking about this and that.

* * *

**TBC**

**So, they survived their first real fight. I hope, you found this to be believable and not too much out of character. Don't hesitate to let me know either way... Thanks for your continued support  
**


	28. Chapter 28

**Warning: Their love most certainly isn't a platonic one ;-) Though nothing too graphic in this chapter...  
**

* * *

Surviving their first fight had been three days ago. It was early Wednesday evening now, and Patrick was nervously inspecting his clothes, trying to decide whether his usual three-piece-suit would be adequate for a night at the opera with his grandparents or if he should rather settle on a full-out tux.

Teresa had opted out of the evening entertainment, mostly because she wanted to give her lover some alone-time with his relatives, but also because she really wasn't that much into opera and had been afraid to find herself in the middle of a bunch of aficionados. She knew for a fact that her consultant enjoyed classical music very much, and considering that his grandmother was actually a professional musician, Lisbon guessed that her husband couldn't exactly be a loather either.

Now she watched her lover with great amusement, teasingly calling him a girl. Finally she took pity on him because she could see his insecurities rearing their ugly heads again and this fashion problem progressively turning into an all consuming question of appearing adequate in front of his grandparents. So she left him for a moment to make a call.

"Hi, Elisa. This is Teresa. - No, I won't accompany Patrick tonight. I thought he'd told you. - Ah, no, I didn't reconsider. No, what I wanted to know is how formal an affair it's going to be. - Oh, I'm afraid I have a very nervous boyfriend on my hands right now. - Yes, I know, he'd be suitably clad in almost any company in his usual attire, but he's still anxious he might be underdressed. - Ah, okay, so Jonathan will wear a normal suit and hates ties. Very well. You've helped me a lot. Thanks. Have much fun tonight."

She went back to her high-strung lover, pulled out the suit she liked the most on him, a dark-gray pinstriped one, and a white shirt and sent him to the bathroom. He cast her a thankful look and disappeared. She snickered and went ahead and found him black socks and his one pair of black shoes, well, actually, his all-around second pair of shoes. Shoe-shopping was definitely something she put on the list of things they should do soon; it wouldn't be an easy task and she predicted a fight in her near future. The state of his underwear and socks was also reason for worry, and some of his shirts showed obvious signs of decay as well. And jeans, she REALLY wanted to go jeans-shopping with him, yum…

She'd asked him about the sorry state of his wardrobe after she'd forced him to throw out a pair of completely threadbare boxer shorts, and he'd admitted that he hadn't really bought anything new for himself ever since his wife and child had died. It was clearly another of his countless ways of punishing himself, she'd concluded, because she knew he actually had a lot of fashion sense and was by no means unheeding when it came to his own appearance, though he wasn't exactly vain either.

She decided to slowly work on his disregard for himself. She would start small. No sense to push too much too soon. He would just clam up then. Money was a sour spot after all, and he had obviously a very hard time spending anything but the most essential on himself. Fortunately, food seemed to be the exception. Food and drink. But she suspected that this had more to do with him spoiling her.

It had always been like that – even before they'd become lovers. He always brought her barista coffee and went to the best bakery in Sacramento to get her beloved bear claws. And he didn't shy away from leaving the city to get fresh fruit for her either. When it came to food he had a real knack for finding the best quality of each product. Still, she somehow doubted that he'd indulged himself that much in that regard either during the last nine years.

And she was equally as sure that though he loved music and theater and the like, he hadn't been to any performances either if it hadn't been in the context of his work. The case they'd had a while ago, where the first violin of a symphony orchestra had been the murder victim, had been a real revelation for her in that regard. He'd attended all the rehearsals he could get away with, and after he'd closed the case, she'd witnessed one of his very rare unguarded moments: she'd come back after delivering the perp to her teammates, planning to drag a certain consultant gone astray back to HQ with her. What she'd found, of all things, was an extremely happy looking Patrick Jane jamming away on a contrabass with the other musicians.

She'd just stood and listened and, most of all, enjoyed watching the man being truly carefree for once. It had been a beautiful sight. She'd left after a while before he could notice her, because she didn't want him to feel embarrassed. Hence she'd never brought it up in conversation either.

Until that day, she hadn't had the slightest idea her consultant could play an instrument. Not that it really surprised her. Sometimes she had the utterly annoying impression that there was very little that bastard couldn't do to at least some degree…

He reappeared in the bedroom where she still stood deep in thought. "Didn't know my skivvies were that fascinating," he teased her, pecking her on the cheek in passing. "Ah, thanks for finding me a pair of socks." He sat down on the edge of the bed and put on both socks and shoes.

His return had pulled her out of her stupor and she looked him over with appreciation. "It's a good thing I won't be coming along tonight. I'd ravish you during the first act," she said huskily with hunger in her eyes.

"No fair. You can't say things like that fifteen minutes before my grandparents are due to come by, Teresa. And besides, you probably spoilt the whole first act for me now," he groaned and got up from the bed.

She took two steps in his direction. His eyes got wide and he raised his hands to keep her at a safe distance. "Oh no, Teresa. Don't do this to me," he begged.

But she grinned and came even closer. "I want at least a kiss, Patrick. I'm going to be all alone tonight. And I'm gonna miiiissss yooouuu," she drawled seductively.

"Sneaky minx," he grumbled, before he decided to turn the tables. He was the master of mind games after all and she was a mere apprentice even on her best day. Stealing himself, he pulled her flat against his chest and devoured her mouth in a passionate kiss that had the immediate and desired effect of curling her toes. His forefinger traced her spine with purpose as well, because he knew she had some very sensitive spots there.

As intended, she was hot and aroused in a matter of seconds and moaned needily into his mouth. His hand left her back and sneaked between their bodies, touching her breasts on the way, before it settled lower, his fingers teasing her core through her pants. He could feel her wetness through two layers of clothes and had to pull all the tricks in his book for the whole thing not to backfire massively.

He realized she'd become frantic when she tried to pull off his clothes. That's when he released her and stepped back, giving off an air of being totally unaffected. He took in the picture of his completely disheveled and needy lover and congratulated himself on a job well-done.

She stood before him with eyes as big as saucers, aroused and speechless, only slowly comprehending that she'd just been played. Her face turned angry, which made her incredibly cute in his opinion, and it was only the door bell ringing that saved him from either her wrath or her passion – maybe even both, he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, dear. My escort for the night has arrived. Have a nice evening," he purred, pecking her lips in passing on his way out.

Halfway down the stairs he heard the expected shout of "You miserable bastard!" and grinned merrily. Thus he was in high spirits when he greeted his grandparents who were a bit disappointed, they couldn't at least say hello to Teresa. Patrick told them she was indisposed at the moment and Jonathan and Elisa had the certain feeling that their grandson had something to do with that fact considering the evil glint in his eyes and the false smile he'd sported when he'd said that.

* * *

After he'd left her standing in her bedroom, all frustrated and dissatisfied, Teresa cursed Jane to all hell and back. She swore revenge. It took her a full ten minutes to compose herself again and that's when she also started to see at least a little spark of humor in the situation. Her imp had played her, and played her well – no doubt about it. On the other hand, she'd probably granted him the chance to distract himself from the lingering nervousness still accompanying every meeting he had with his grandparents. And if she saw it from that perspective, she couldn't be too angry with him. Still, it nagged her that he had such power over her – and that he knew it too. Though she was pretty sure, she had quite a bit of sway over him as well. He hadn't been as unaffected as he'd wanted her to believe. A man couldn't hide his arousal all that well after all and he could count himself lucky she'd put him into a suit with enough space in the crotch-area…

With her equilibrium firmly re-established and a devious grin on her lips, she went down to the kitchen and filled the kettle, which had magically appeared in her kitchen about four weeks ago, to make herself a cup of tea. And at this point she got slightly miffed again because surely that wretched sprite hadn't already turned her into a tea-drinker too?

She grumbled to herself about sneaky and useless consultants who thought they could just come and flip over her life, all the while regarding the contents of her wall cupboard, namely a nearly obscene assortment of the most delicious blends of tea money could buy, in happy anticipation. She decided to be a bit adventurous and try one containing that stuff called rooibos. She wasn't sure she'd ever had that type before, but the additional flavoring sounded delicious - strawberry, rhubarb and pana cotta – and indicated that Patrick had bought it specifically for her. She smiled fondly at his thoughtfulness and called herself a love-sick puppy without dignity right after.

The brewing tea smelled heavenly. She'd decided to add milk and caught herself pouring it in first, because a voice in her head that sounded eerily like Jane's had told her to do so. She shook her head at her own antics and realized that though this was the first evening she would spend alone in her apartment in two weeks, Patrick still seemed to be present everywhere. She took great comfort in that thought. Obviously she wasn't fed up with him – yet. She grinned.

She'd been afraid that having him around constantly both at work and at home would be challenging to say the least. They had their disagreements and squabbles, and had survived one major fight as well, but all in all it was much the opposite: she craved his presence more and more.

This realization caught her by surprise. Where were her usual fears regarding commitment? Why didn't she feel caged? How was it possible that she had surrendered her whole freedom and normal need for space like that? And what had happened to her deep rooted want for privacy?

He was everywhere now, from his kettle in the kitchen to his toothbrush in the bathroom, from his puzzle books on the coffee table to his clothes in her closet. He'd become an integral part of her life in such a short amount of time – it was kind of shocking. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find any fault with this development. On the contrary, it felt right. It was simply the way it was meant to be and she missed him whenever he wasn't nearby.

Hopefully, their next weekend wouldn't be disturbed by another case because she really, seriously wanted to spend more quality time with him, preferably naked. He had turned her into a randy teenager…

She blushed remembering actually being late for work for the first time in her life because she just couldn't resist that handsome bastard. And even if she claimed otherwise, she knew she couldn't blame him for that one… Her smile lit up her face at the memory. He'd been so utterly cute…

She shook her head in dismay. Now he made her even hot without actually being present. Something was seriously wrong with her. No self-control at all these days. It was completely his fault of course. He'd left her unsatisfied after all. Yes, that must be it. She was just a poor, sexually frustrated woman who'd been mistreated and neglected awfully by her lover. Somehow the excuse sounded lame, she admitted to herself with another grin.

* * *

Taking the tea mug with her to the living room, she sat down on the couch and placed the steaming beverage in front of her right beside her briefcase. She'd taken some paperwork home with her, intending to make use of her imp-free time. She opened it and took out some file folders and started to work. The only interruption to her concentration was the first taste of the tea. She'd moaned with pleasure. He really knew her well.

She continued with the forms she had to fill out and about an hour later she was completely caught up with her work. Tomorrow morning her desk would only show whatever new work would come up during the night. She was very satisfied with her accomplishments.

Now there was only one piece of paper left that she wanted to read through tonight: Patrick's consultant contract. Ever since he'd mentioned that lack of leave in it, she'd wanted to look into it. She was sure he'd fibbed, but she had to admit that it had been rather negligent of her to never read that thing. She was his boss after all and though she was the one to hand him his paychecks every week, she didn't even know how much he earned, truth be told.

But during the years, and with all his schemes and the countless problems he'd caused, she'd decided to leave all the official dealings with him to her boss and the director himself. It was enough that she'd had to do all the additional paperwork. And write apology letters, call disgruntled VIPs, appease angry members of local law enforcement, and the like. In her opinion, the rest could and should very well be handled by those higher up than her. But she was more inclined to deal with the drawbacks now that she also got the benefits of his attentions… A big smile spread on her face. No, don't even think of going there again, she scolded herself just seconds later.

* * *

She was a bit hungry and decided to reheat some left-overs (something delicious with rice and chicken and vegetables in a curry-flavored sauce Jane had prepared the day before) and have a glass of wine while examining the contract.

Armed with good food and wine she sat down on the couch again ten minutes later and started to take a look at the papers in front of her. Her face turned darker with each passing minute and halfway through the thing she was cursing like a sailor. This was completely outrageous, she decided. A real scandal in fact. If she leaked this piece of paper to the press, the PR-fallout for the CBI would be disastrous. She was sure she could ruin the director with it if she wanted.

Damn Jane for never even mentioning it. She knew he wasn't in it for the money. He'd made that clear repeatedly. But this? She had no idea why he tolerated these conditions, and it pained her to think that he'd thought until very recently that she was both familiar with this and had accepted it.

She was furious and she wanted to share her outrage with someone. The person most suited wasn't available though. After a moment of contemplation she went ahead and called Cho. He might not always be the best person to vent one's anger with, but this she knew would tick off the normally stoic man because he held - if nothing else - great respect for Jane's abilities.

She asked him whether he was occupied or if he might be willing to come over for a while. He was a bit surprised to be invited into her home a second time in the course of one week, but agreed to be there as soon as possible, sensing that his boss needed an ear. He just hoped that idiot Jane hadn't done something stupid and hurt her. But as if reading his mind she added, "And yes, this is about Jane, but it's kind of not his fault anyway. He's out with his grandparents tonight."

* * *

By the time Cho arrived about 15 minutes later Teresa was seething. He held out a bottle of tequila to her. "Figured you could do with something a bit stronger, the way you sounded on the phone." Taking one look at her he added, "Guess I was right."

* * *

**TBC**

**As your feedback is a most giving reward for my writing, I'd really love to get word from you. Thanks!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Sorry for the longer than usual wait. Iwas out of town visiting a friend for the weekend and didn't manage to post before I left.**

**Warning: Explicit sexual content and Fiery Lisbon in this chapter - the second not entirely due to the first though...**

* * *

She motioned him in, went to the kitchen to get two shot glasses, and asked, "You hungry? I could reheat you something."

"Jane made it?" Cho asked. She nodded. "Then I'm game."

Lisbon came back with his food and the glasses, sat down beside him on the couch, and ordered, "Eat. And do it fast. You have to read something."

He raised his brows and dug in. Between two bites he sighed, "Say what you want about that guy, but cooking he can do."

"He has other fine qualities as well, " Teresa said defiantly.

Cho raised his brows again and cast her a pointed look. "I never doubted that, though I certainly don't want to know any details, Teresa."

She huffed. "I wasn't talking about those kinds of qualities…" A blush spread over her face, making it blatantly clear to Cho that sexual frustration at least wasn't a problem in his boss's life.

He grinned. "That good, huh?"

Her blush intensified. "Damn it, Cho!"

He decided to let her off the hook. "So what's this really all about, boss?"

"Here," she handed him the papers that had made her so angry, "It's Jane's contract." With a very sheepish expression she added, "Tonight's the first time I've taken a look at it."

"I'm still eating. Makes it kind of hard to read. Why don't you just give me the gist of what about it has you so enraged?" he suggested.

"The gist? You want the gist? The whole damn thing is an outrage, Cho! It's exploitation. It's a scandal." She jumped up from the couch and waved about angrily. "I mean, he's the best damn detective in this whole damn state, Kimball. He's the reason we have the best case stats in the state. Director Bertram uses him as his PR-poster boy, for heaven's sake. He's even raised a large amount of funds for the CBI and that's the thanks he gets? It's preposterous," Teresa ranted, pacing in front of the coffee table.

"Okay, he causes problems as well," she continued, running a hand through her hair in agitation, "And lawsuits, and he doesn't always follow the law, and ticks off important people. I know that. But still, if the powers that be didn't see him as an asset, why would they even bother to employ him at all?"

Cho looked at her with slight amusement. It wasn't often one saw Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon in such a state. Her indignation had reached volcanic proportions with steam coming out of her ears. She didn't appreciate his mirth at all and cast him a death glare. "If you're going to make fun of me, you better leave at once before I make you…" she said angrily stepping in front of him.

"Sorry, boss. Just not used to seeing you like that. But it would help if you actually gave me some real facts. So far you've only conveyed your displeasure," the male agent replied carefully.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself down a bit. "You're probably right. I'm just so angry about this. And at Jane because he never said anything about it. But okay, facts."

Her pacing started again. "He's only employed on a monthly basis with no guaranties for him. It extends automatically for another month as long as the CBI doesn't decide otherwise, which could be any time in fact. Consequently, he has no right to any benefits. No health insurance, no leaves of any kind, be it due to sickness or personal reasons. No vacation entitlement, no bonuses. Not even his travel expenses are covered, when we're out in the field."

She bristled with irritation. "He has to reimburse the CBI when I pay for the team with the Bureau's plastic. And obviously he has paid for every single fine the CBI's ever been sued for because of him."

She had to pause for a moment after her long recitation, her anger flaring up again with full force. And she wasn't even ready yet.

Her usually stoic teammate seemed equally shocked. His eyes had gotten wider and wider, the more she revealed. "This isn't all, Cho. There isn't even anything in it about working hours, meaning that essentially he never gets paid for overtime or weekend duty. I just call him at all hours of the day and whenever I call the rest of the team and let him pull all-nighters and no matter what, he gets the same lousy check every month."

She snorted, her pacing getting more and more agitated. "And that's not even the worst of it Cho. I know he's not in it for the money, but frankly, I don't understand how he gets by on this. The health insurance fee alone must be exorbitant because any company would deem him a member of law enforcement and thus consider him a high risk insurant. And his contract demands for him to have one."

She pondered the implications of this. She stopped her pacing, her face pensive, and a moment later she said more to herself than to her companion, "He must be using money from other sources. I guess, he has something left from his former life."

She halted again, deep in thought about the matter. He had his house still, and vintage cars. That much he'd divulged to her. But he must have some liquid money as well.

Cho interrupted her thoughts. "Well, how much does he get? You haven't mentioned that yet."

"Oh, sorry. I got a bit carried away I guess. Yes, how much does the best investigator in this state get for his troubles? I swear it, you won't believe me, Kimball. He gets three hundred a week."

"No way, boss. You're kidding me. I mean, when we're out in the field, I'm sure a week costs even more than $300 per person with hotel rooms and food and stuff. It's completely impossible for him to get by with so little. There must be a mistake somewhere, Teresa. This can't be right," Cho replied, surprisingly verbose.

She nodded. "That's what I thought as well, at first. But I actually have his latest paycheck here with me. And it confirms it, Cho."

She seethed again, looking at him with deep indignation. "Just last Sunday his quick thinking saved a life and yielded a donation of $50,000 for the CBI and he gets not even $15,000 a year! It's incredible. I'm so angry, Kimball." She was pacing the room once more, trying to vent her frustration.

Cho could see that she wasn't finished with her rant yet and that it was best to let her get it all off her chest before he spoke up again. It wasn't easy though because he was nearly as enraged as Lisbon about this. And he couldn't understand why Jane accepted those conditions. Just to have access to the Red John files and investigation? That couldn't be the only reason. Jane must know what value he held for the CBI. Their bosses certainly weren't as canny when pointing that out and exploiting it as they obviously were at rewarding it adequately.

As expected, Teresa started up again. "And he just puts up with this, Kimball. Why? God, I'm sure it's some rubbish again about not deserving more and that he has to do penance for his very existence or something like this. How am I supposed to make him believe in his own worth when his employer's been riding roughshod over him like that for years and he thought I was in on it?" She hid her face behind her hands.

Cho got up from the couch and stood in front of her. "Boss? Teresa? If what you just implied is true, I mean that Jane actually believes he doesn't deserve better than that, then he seriously needs help," he said earnestly.

She lowered her hands and looked him in the eyes. "I know, Kimball. I am trying to help him," she replied.

"That's not what I mean. Jane needs professional help," he told her carefully.

"I don't disagree with you, but you've seen him around doctors and counselors, Cho." They exchanged a knowing look. "I won't betray his secrets but he's had some rather unfortunate experiences on that front, to put it lightly, and let's leave it at that. I don't see him seeking that kind of help any time soon." She laughed without humor. "So I'll just continue with my personal project of trying to raise his self-esteem. Love conquers all, right?"

Cho gave her one of his small smiles. "Yeah. And I might not exactly love the guy, but if you let me I'm gonna help."

"You will?" she asked, brows raised in astonishment.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Kimball." She cast him a grateful look. "Come on, let's sit down again. I need one of those shots now." They retook their seats and Teresa addressed her friend and colleague again, "I probably shouldn't ask you this but would you tell me, honestly, what you really think of Jane?"

* * *

Cho took a little time before he answered. He poured them both a glass of the tequila and prompted her to down hers by doing so with his. "That's a tough one, boss. He's a good man, not always a nice one though. Troubled. Damaged, maybe beyond repair. You would know more about that. Smart, obsessive. Headstrong and reckless."

He took a breath. He'd already said more than he was strictly comfortable with. He wasn't a man of many words after all. But he could see that this was important to Lisbon, so he decided to deplete the rest of his weekly quota of sentences for this good cause and continued, "A big heart he keeps carefully hidden. Loyal. Have always known he hides a lot of old pain behind his arrogance and cockiness, probably even older than the Red John stuff." He searched her eyes and the look of sadness he found there confirmed his suspicions.

Sporting a warm half-smile he went on. "Secretive as hell. Prankster, master of manipulation and deflection. Kind, when he wants to be. Great with kids. Good sense of humor. Full of surprises. Tongue as sharp as a razor. To be honest, half the time I don't know if I really like him or not, but he's my friend. And he's been a good friend to me on many occasions."

He paused, remembering the time when he'd truly understood that the other man was his friend. When Jane had pushed him to look into the murder of his closest friend from his days as a gang member. Their consultant had realized at once how important this was for him and that he would have regretted it if he hadn't done it – even when he himself hadn't been able to see it at first. And Jane hadn't only pushed him. He'd actually tagged along and helped solving the case, long before they'd taken it over officially. Cho was suddenly unsure if he'd ever thanked Jane for it…

Shaking himself out of his memories and getting back to the situation at hand, he added one last thing to his characterization, one he'd known for a long time, "And he loves you, Teresa, has for years." He breathed out and felt exhausted. So much talking didn't agree with him.

"Wow. I don't think I've ever heard you talking that much before. Did it hurt much?" she teased him.

He pulled a face that made her chuckle, but then she turned serious again. "Thank you, Kimball. I appreciate your honesty. And I'm glad you consider him a friend in spite of everything. I know for a fact that he thinks of you as a friend, as family even, but that he's equally as sure that you don't return the sentiment."

"I told him just a week ago," the Asian man explained, pouring them another shot of tequila.

She emptied her glass and rolled her eyes when she chimed in again, "Huh! Telling him? Nice one, Cho. Do you have any idea how often I've told him certain things and he still doubts them the minute the slightest trouble occurs? We have to show him that we appreciate him. That's my new tactic at least. Words aren't enough obviously."

"I won't start kissing him, Teresa," he smirked.

"You better not or I'll have to break your nose," she snickered.

"Possessive, are we?" he replied.

"Oh yes. He's all mine," she answered, the teasing tone she'd aimed for overruled by the obvious tenderness and wonder that had sneaked into her voice.

He regarded her with benign eyes. "He makes you happy. I can see that." She nodded, her smile brightening the room. "Good. And about the contract?" She looked at him expectantly. "I think you should talk it over with Jane first. Don't do anything behind his back. When he's ready, I'm sure the whole team will be behind whatever you plan to do about it. Okay?"

"Seems like sound advice." She paused shortly. "Thank you, Cho. For coming over and listening to my ranting and you know…"

"You're welcome. Got to eat Jane-cooking for my trouble, so we're even." He grinned. "Let's have another shot before I take my leave, boss." He poured them the next round and they clinked glasses. "To our mission of Jane-repair," Cho toasted.

"I like that," she smiled. They both tossed back their shots and Teresa felt a smooth warmness spread through her and knew it was only in part due to the alcohol.

"So he's out with his grandparents? Last week's crisis fully averted then?"

She nodded. "Yes. You saw that letter from Matthew Jane, didn't you?"

"Yeah. A bit lame, though. Considering what he did. Should've punched him when I had the chance to have it look like self-defense," Cho stated.

Lisbon chuckled. "I must confess to having similar thoughts… But he's Jane's family and that makes him mine too in a way. Actually, I hope I'll get the chance for some revenge at a later date." Her grin turned devious.

"You do that, boss." Cho got up from the couch and she followed suit to see him out.

"See you tomorrow, Kimball. And thanks again for, well, you know."

He nodded. "Good night, Teresa."

* * *

Left to her own devices again she cleaned the dishes and got ready for bed, feeling a bit tipsy after the three shots and the glass of wine she'd had. When she lay down in bed she had another moment of terribly missing Jane, but she scolded herself for her silliness. He was just out for the evening after all, and her behavior was a disgrace to any self-respecting woman. Since when did she need a man in her bed to feel safe and comfortable? Preposterous…

Still, she fell asleep to thoughts about him with a smile on her face. She woke up again when he snuck into bed. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered gently. "Just go back to sleep, love."

But she just opened her arms, inviting him to come closer and said huskily, "I think, you left some unfinished business, Mister."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She was warm and soft and tasted of sleep and happy dreams, though he found some underlying traces of alcohol in her mouth as well. "Had a little party without me, love?" he teased her. "Is that tequila I sense?"

"Your fault. Had to drown my sorrows when you left me the way you did," she replied defiantly.

He caressed her cheeks and leant in for another deep kiss. "I missed you," he stated warmly, when they finally broke it.

Teresa traced his cheekbone lightly with her forefinger and searched his eyes in the half-dark of the bedroom. "Did you have a good time with your grandparents, Patrick?" she asked quietly.

"The performance was beautiful. And we had some dinner afterwards. I don't think I made too much of a mess of the conversation either. So all in all, I would say it was a success," he told her, his eyes shining with genuine happiness.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as well. "You have to stop thinking you'll screw this up, Patrick. Just be yourself and they are gonna love you." After pecking his lips she added, "Works with me after all."

Then her hand wandered down and sneaked unerringly into his shorts. She found him half-hard already, and her bold move had him moaning. A few strokes and he was fully erect in her hand. "I've been ready for you the whole evening, Patrick," she whispered seductively in his ear. "And even if you're a nasty little tease and I should just leave YOU in this state now, I want you to make love to me, and then I want to sleep in you arms," she ordered, squeezing his shaft for emphasis.

He groaned, "God yes, Teresa. Want you." And then he fumbled with her sleep pants, while she pulled down his shorts. Feeling around on her bedstand in a frenzy, she told herself how thankful she was that due to the pill, soon they wouldn't need to remember condoms anymore.

They were still lying on their sides, facing each other, but now he pushed her on her back and kneeled between her splayed legs. He took the rubber from her and donned it. Slowly lowering himself over her, he thrust into her and her legs came around his waist in an attempt to push him in even deeper. "You feel so good, Teresa," he moaned, "Want to stay inside of you forever."

"Oh yeeees," she whimpered, "That would be niiiice. I…"

He cut her off, starting to thrust into her in earnest - long, even, and hard strokes. "Love you, love you, love you," he repeated like a mantra with every thrust. When they were both getting close, he stopped talking and devoured her mouth with his instead, his strokes getting more and more erratic. Her arms had come around his torso and had snuck under the t-shirt he was still wearing. She stroked his back at first, but when their arousal grew and they were both getting frantic, her grip on him became almost painfully firm and when he finally pushed her over the edge, her nails scratched the skin on his shoulders. He shuddered and came us well with a final cry of "Love you."

Still panting he turned on his side and pulled her with him, so they were lying face to face again. Even though it wasn't the ideal solution he dumped the used sheath on the floor beside the bed. He pulled her close, so she lay with her head tucked under his armpit, her face almost pressed against his chest, but with enough space for her to breathe. Their legs intertwined immediately of their own accord. He pulled up the comforter and when they were both covered sufficiently, his free arm came around her waist, his hand resting on the small of her back. He kissed the top of her head and wished her a good night, though judging from her even breathing, she was probably already asleep again. He closed his eyes, breathed in her familiar scent and drifted off with a small smile tacked on his lips.

* * *

**TBC**

**I'd really appreciate it, if you left a little something for me... Thanks!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry, just a short one this time...**

* * *

Agent Kimball Cho cast just one look at Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon on Thursday morning when she walked into the break room - with a big smile, but yawning and in search of coffee - and knew why she was in such a good mood. "Late night, boss?" he asked straight-faced.

She blushed at once, but put on a sly grin anyway."Yeah. Want any details, Kimball?"

"Details about what?" Jane inquired, entering the room cheerily.

"Oh, he just wondered about my late night activities," she said nonchalantly.

The consultant mocked surprise and indignation. "Kimball Cho? Do I sense an unhealthy obsession with your boss's love life? How naughty. You know this could be construed as sexual harassment, don't you? Shame on you." He wagged his finger at him as well for good measure, sporting a shit-eating grin.

The Asian man couldn't fully quell a grin of his own from making it onto his lips. "You two really deserve each other," he said neutrally, leaving the meaning of the statement open. Then he went back to the bullpen with two cups of coffee, one of which he delivered to Rigsby, who was reading some files in deep concentration. Cho waited until his partner had taken a big mouthful of the hot beverage before he murmured, "Wow, the boss looks sure happy today. Jane must be one hell of a stud in the sack."

Predictably, nearly a pint of coffee covered every available surface of Rigsby's desk including his files a second later with the agent in question coughing and panting for air, face unhealthily red.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Cho asked with raised eyebrows and eyes full of mirth. "Oops."

Grinning he took a big sip of his own coffee, when a cheery voice whispered in his ear, "Being naughty again, Agent Cho?" This in turn startled Cho into spewing his drink partly on the floor and partly on Van Pelt, beside whose desk he'd been standing.

Jane on the other hand stood behind him and snorted with laughter, while Grace couldn't decide whether she should be disgusted about being bathed in Cho's coffee or laughing along because she'd watched the whole encounter. She'd heard how Kimball had played poor Wayne and she'd seen Jane watching the scene and sneaking up behind Cho, motioning for her not to give him away. And apart from being the victim of the coffee attack, the whole thing had been completely hilarious in her opinion, so she gave finally in and bubbled over.

That's the situation Lisbon walked in on, when she entered the bullpen to check in with her team. Her brows disappeared behind her bangs and she said only one word, "Jane."

"I didn't do it," the blond man giggled, trying and failing to look innocent.

She cast him a stern look.

"Okay," he admitted with an impish grin. "But he started it," Jane added mock-petulantly, pointing to Cho.

Teresa rolled her eyes in consternation. But when she spoke again, her tone betrayed her amusement, "And this is supposed to be the leading law enforcement agency in this state… Immature children, the whole lot of you. Agent Van Pelt?" The young woman nodded eagerly, a bit unsure how pissed their boss really was. "Go and put on something clean and dry." Lisbon cast the younger woman a warm smile to put her at ease. Then her expression turned stern again. "Agents Cho and Rigsby? Clean that up." Her hands made a vague gesture meant to cover all the wayward coffee in the room. Turning her attention to her sheepish consultant, she said, "Jane? My office. Now!"

Walking off, they could both hear Grace murmur, "Poor Jane. He's really in for it now." And Cho's answer, "Wouldn't be too sure about that." And Rigsby's predictable question, "What do you mean?" And Grace's and Kimball's exasperated groans.

* * *

Jane and Lisbon entered her office together in dignified silence, which lasted exactly until the moment, she'd closed the blinds and he the door. Then the Senior Agent finally lost her battle with laughter. "God, please, Jane. I want the rest of the story now. I only caught the last part of it," she pressed out. "You should have seen Cho's face," she giggled helplessly. "And Van Pelt's, when the coffee hit her straight on. Did you see her face?"

Jane nodded, laughing heartily himself. "Yeah, I could see hers, but not Cho's."

"And then you. Saying you hadn't done it. God, Patrick, sometimes you really look like a five year old caught with his hand in the cookie jar and still protesting his innocence." She giggled some more.

"Let me guess: it was cute." He rolled his eyes.

She stepped closer to him, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket. "Yeah, as a matter of fact it was," she said, her face suddenly showing hunger instead of mirth. And then she closed the last gap and pressed her lips to his. She released him a moment later, before things could get out of hand. "I really shouldn't do that at work," she scolded herself. Casting him an accusing look she grumbled, "Why are you so damn irresistible, Jane?"

"Oh, nine years of repressed sexual attraction should do the trick. And then there's the whole matter of being in love and all that to consider. Pretty explosive combination," he explained merrily, sporting a completely blasé expression.

She punched his arm. "Idiot! Why aren't you more affected then, smart-ass?"

"I am, Lisbon. Don't doubt that. But I'm better at concealing it. Remember? I'm an excellent liar while you, my dear, are a dreadful one. But rest assured, if it were up to me you'd be on that sofa, naked, shouting my name in ecstasy by now," he said seriously.

"Jane! Don't say things like that," she groaned.

He went over to her couch and sat down. "And just when I was telling the truth for once…" he teased her. He patted the spot beside him. "Come on, Lisbon. Sit down with me, and I'll tell you the rest of the story. Though I do have to warn you that it could very well make us come full circle." He smirked.

She eyed him skeptically but sat down, though she kept some space between them, not trusting either herself or Jane. "Shoot!"

He recounted the whole event and had her giggle very un-Lisbonish again in no time. "Poor Wayne. Cho's nearly as bad as you sometimes."

"Yes, that's why I had to punish him," Jane answered straight-faced. "Ahm, Lisbon?" he asked a moment later and she nodded, "Don't look to the right side of the door, I said, DON'T," he chided her, preventing her from doing so at the last moment, "We're being watched. I'm afraid you didn't fully close one of those blinds."

"Sneaky bastards. Who's it?" she inquired indignant.

He enumerated completely unaffected, "Red hair, black hair, brown hair. Any further questions? They're probably trying to make sure, you didn't kill me. Wanna give them a show?"

"What? You want me to pretend killing you?" She raised her brows.

"Not quite… rather the opposite. Will teach them not to spy on their boss." He smirked.

She looked at him incredulously. "You want to make out with me in front of the team? Are you crazy?"

"Nah, just pretend of course."

She gazed at him with defiance and murmured, "Not sure I can only pretend with you, Jane."

He chuckled, but his eyes only carried warmth. "Then let me do the pretending. Just lie down on the sofa and trust me."

Her voice was very skeptical, "I don't know…"

"Relax, Teresa. From their angle, they can't see much. I'll just bend over, they won't even see you. Come on, don't be a spoil-sport. I promise I won't do anything inappropriate, not at work at least." He winked at her.

She couldn't refuse his expectant eyes. She let him push her sideways so she came to rest on the couch. And as promised he only bent down, shielding her completely from view. She couldn't see where his hands were or what they were doing, but he hardly touched her at all. It only took a few moments of him doing whatever he did, until they could hear two horror-stricken gasps and one dismayed groan from outside her office door.

Jane sat up again and shouted "Busted!" and then they could hear three pairs of feet hurry away. Patrick and Teresa grinned at each other. "Told you that'll teach them."

"Yeah, you did. But now, shoo, Jane. Out of my office so I'll finally get some real work done. I'm still an officer of the law after all," she said strictly.

He got up and went to the door, opened it and was halfway through before he turned once more for a parting-shot. "Yes, but now you are also my girlfriend," he said with a cheeky grin, bringing to both their minds a scene from not so many weeks ago.

She shook her head and went over to her desk mumbling darkly, "Just glad that hussy isn't around anymore to ask for kisses."

* * *

**TBC**

**I hope you liked to get a bit of team action. **

**It's always very, very nice to hear from you, so please don't hesitate to send me a line. Thanks!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N1: I'm back with a new chapter and to make up for the longer than usual gap between postings it's a slightly longer one. No real warnings, though it's a bit angsty.**

* * *

**A/N2: I want to thank my faithful and fantastic beta "firstdown" once again for her excellent editing, her useful and encouraging comments and her helpful suggestions!  
**

* * *

Teresa decided to try and talk about the whole contract situation with Patrick that evening. She felt like an indirect approach would be the best way. She thought she'd play him a bit, even if that was a tad dangerous, because you had to be extra careful when you wanted to outwit a master at his own game. But she didn't mean to outright manipulate him, just to ease into the topic, hopefully.

So when they came home from work after a not too constructive day – they were still waiting for the lab results and Keen still kept as silent as a post – Patrick went to the kitchen to fix them some dinner and Teresa accompanied him. She sat down on one of the barstools behind the counter and out of his way, because experience had shown, that she had a real talent for always standing exactly where it would most disturb his efficient work. He put a mug of tea in front of her soon enough – unsurprisingly tea was always the first thing he made when they came home and she had already gotten used to their little after-work routine.

A few sips later when she deemed both herself and him relaxed enough, she decided to broach the subject. "Patrick? We need to talk about money," she started.

He looked up from cutting vegetables and raised his brows. "Haven't we spoken about money more than enough during the last two weeks?" he inquired.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was thinking in more practical terms. Like now that you're living here on a permanent basis, we should talk about sharing the costs," she explained.

In all honesty she couldn't care less about him paying rent. He had paid for all their food ever since he moved in and he was certainly not stingy and only bought the best. And her income was generous enough to allow her to cover the monthly installment for her condo. But she wanted to force him to admit that HE didn't have the means. Or rather, that he had them from a source outside of his actual employment.

Not entirely unsurprisingly, his face didn't reveal anything about what he was thinking and neither did his voice. "That sounds reasonable. I'm sorry I didn't offer to do so myself. How much do you have in mind? I have no idea what lease costs are these days," he said nonchalantly.

She silently cursed him. This wouldn't be an easy task. What should she do now? Ask about an outrageous sum to make him buckle? Then she had a sudden flash of inspiration. She got up and disappeared for a moment, returning armed with some sheets of paper and a pen. "Let's see," she mumbled, starting to write down numbers. It was always good to make him curious. And he took the bait as hoped.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking up from his food preparations again.

"Ah, just re-adjusting my monthly budget," she answered. "I do that once in a while. You know, taking a good look at my expenses and my revenue. Check how things work out financially. I also have some additional retirement arrangement. I'll get the benefit from the State of course, as an officer, but it's always good to have an extra plan." she explained.

He nodded, still not letting any obvious discomfort show, though she thought she could spot a slight hesitation. So she decided to continue, pointing at the numbers on the sheet, "This is my monthly income after taxes, about $3500. I'm paying off my condo, which is the biggest expense, $1500, Annie is my goddaughter so I've been putting away a monthly deposit of $100 for her ever since she was born. Food is about $300 a month. Other expenses for off-time stuff like yoga about $300 as well. Then there's all the other things like insurances and additional costs of living, all in all $ 400. And another $500 goes to my retirement provision. Which leaves me with a bit of spare money every month. Which incidentally will increase now that you'll take over part of the costs for housing." She grinned happily. "Not too bad to have a roomie I guess, come to think of it. Financially speaking, that is." She winked at him.

"No other benefits then?" he inquired, maybe a tiny bit afflicted, or so she hoped.

"Well, the food's good, too," she teased him. He was a slightly affected, she was sure of it, but he hadn't given her much so far. She probably had to up the ante. "Now, about your rent. Considering that I provide all the furniture and other appliances, I think it would be fair if you paid a bit more than half. How about $800? And we should probably have some kind of household budget. You know, pool the resources so to speak. With your exclusive tastes I'd say $400 each should do nicely. We can adjust it when we know for sure how much we actually use. Sounds alright with you?"

She had to admit to herself, that this was a bit cruel. She'd just asked him for all he got from the CBI – before taxes. And she'd actually seen him flinch slightly at the numbers. But he still kept his façade carefully.

"Yes, no problem, " he replied, appearing totally callous again.

Damn him! Why couldn't he just acknowledge that her request was over the top and completely unfair? Because even though it was true that they were using all her furniture, he would be the one to pay more than half of the installment that made HER the single owner of the place one day in the not all too distant future.

"Are you sure, Patrick? Don't you want to take a moment and go over your own finances first?" she inquired carefully. "I mean, I would like to be sure you can afford that and that I'll get my money," she added, cursing herself in her head for being such a bitch.

"You think I'm not good for it?" he asked a bit miffed, cooking completely forgotten at the moment. "That I would double-cross you and live at your expense?" He looked at her with sad eyes. "How could you even think something like that about me? Because I'm a conman? Really, I would never…"

She interrupted him. "Of course not, Patrick. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She cursed herself again. Now she'd really gone too far and hurt him. She had known this would be sensitive subject. "It's just, I honestly don't know anything about your financial situation. Well, apart from the house in Malibu and those vintage cars you still own. Do you have a lot of money left from your old days?" she asked with caution.

"Ah, I see. You don't want my dirty money. Is that it?" he retorted, obviously still upset.

"Stop assuming things, Patrick. I just know that you can't possibly get by with your regular income," she replied a bit huffy as well now. It took her a second to realize that she'd actually made a blunder. She hadn't meant to mention that last part just yet and certainly not like this.

He'd reined in his features completely, wearing one of those masks she hated so much. "Ah. We're finally getting to the real matter at hand I guess. Well Lisbon, it's actually none of your business. I'm good for the money you want. That's all you need to know. In fact, it's all you're entitled to know. Let's leave it at that," he told her coldly.

Now she was both indignant and angry. "I'm your boss and your lover. Of course I'm entitled to know more about your finances, Jane."

"You didn't care before, and you don't need to do so now. Butt out, Lisbon, or you might not like the consequences," he warned her, voice still devoid of emotion.

Her eyes were as round as saucers by now and she'd jumped up from her chair. "Are you threatening me, Jane? Are YOU trying to intimidate ME? That's outrageous." Her expression turned furious. "And I warn you not to speak to me like that ever again. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jane?" Her glare made him take a step backwards, even though there already was a counter between them. But a Lisbon in that mood was explosive and should be handled with the outmost care.

When she realized she'd gotten to him, she relaxed her stance and added in a friendlier tone, "I do care, always have. I was just negligent for once. But I've looked into things and I certainly won't shut up about it, now that I'm actually aware of the situation."

"There is no situation, Teresa, " he said quietly. "Please, just let it go, okay?" His eyes were pleading with her, though the rest of his face had remained carefully guarded.

She came around the counter, making him retreat further. She had to smile at that. He still was her little wimp. Slowly she approached him, and since his back was already in contact with the cupboard behind him, he didn't have any room to escape her. She raised her arm and was shocked when he actually flinched. She didn't like that at all.

"I'm not gonna hit you, Patrick," she said sadly, aborting the gesture she'd intended, namely caressing his cheek. She put her arms around his waist instead, pulling him into her until her head rested against his heart. The tension left his body with a deep sigh and he returned the hug. "I'm sorry, Patrick. This conversation wasn't meant to turn out like this. I know that money is a sensitive subject for you and all I wanted was to ease you into it." She pulled him even closer. "Guess, it didn't work," she mumbled into his chest.

"Let's leave this at least until after dinner, shall we?" he asked softly a while later, and she nodded against his chest. She inhaled his scent, this unique mixture of his shower gel, cologne, and, the best part in her opinion, his genuine Patrick Jane flavor. She'd always loved that, even before they'd become involved. His scent had meant that he was close enough so she could keep an eye on him, and it had meant comfort because he'd slowly turned into her best friend and biggest source of solace over the years. Now it meant a whole range of other things as well, all of which were good in her book.

Her arms came up from around his waist and circled his neck instead, so she could pull him down into a kiss. If she loved his scent, she definitely **loved** the taste of him. He returned her kiss, though she could sense a slight reluctance, and he was also the one to break it again – much too soon in her opinion.

"I should probably continue with the cooking. Earn my keep, so to speak," he said, only half-joking.

She glared at him once more. "Stop that, Patrick. I want you here with me and I wouldn't care if you were the worst cook in the world. I appreciate that you like to cook, because I'm not overly fond of doing it myself, but that's most certainly not the reason I like to have you around. You do know that, don't you?"

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away from her and back to his preparations. Sometimes she really felt like throttling him. She left the kitchen and retired to the living room to calm down, maybe watch some TV, so she wouldn't say or do anything else she might regret afterwards.

* * *

Half an hour later she was relaxed again and had realized just how royally she had screwed up that particular conversation. She couldn't exactly blame him for his reactions. Instead of playing him a bit and keeping things light, she'd put him on the defense right from the start – not a clever move, considering she had originally wanted to show him, that he was worth a lot more than that horrid contract indicated.

What she'd conveyed instead was that she got substantially more money than him and that she wanted to profit from him being here with her. No actually, that he had to pay - both with money and rendition of services - to have the right to be here with her. It was so incredibly far off from what she'd really wanted to impart, that it would have been comical if it weren't so sad.

Patrick called her from the kitchen informing her that dinner was ready. Mostly they ate their evening meals right there for convenience, only when he'd gone all out and prepared something special did they bother to use her – no, she corrected herself – their dining table. She went to join him, the smell from the food delicious as ever. He'd made au gratin potatoes and a salad, and he'd already laid the table, or rather counter in this case, which was normally her task. She desperately hoped this wasn't a sign he thought he had to serve her now. He already did more than his fair share of chores, truth be told, and after their earlier conversation she was afraid he might assume it still wasn't enough to be wanted here. "Thank you, Patrick. It smells wonderful."

He cast her a tentative smile, but kept his silence. They both sat down and dug in. He seemed to be deep in thought and she sensed and honored his obvious need for peace and quiet. When they were both finished eating he started to clear their dishes wordlessly, but she intercepted him. "Here, let me do that. You already did all the cooking."

"It's no big deal, Teresa," he replied neutrally and continued with his work. "Why don't you just go back to the living room and relax?" he offered. "I can make some coffee for you if you want."

She shook her head at his stubbornness. "No, Jane. You got the cart before the horse, I'm afraid. You go and rest on the couch now. I will clean the kitchen and make some tea for you. Got that?"

He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Okay, whatever you want, Agent Lisbon. You're the boss. Got it." He turned to leave the kitchen.

She grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Patrick, please. Don't be like this. I'm sorry. I know I said some pretty stupid things earlier. Things I certainly didn't mean the way they came out. I'll explain, I promise." He gazed at her, neutral mask still firmly in place. She looked at him pleadingly. "Soon, okay? When I'm finished here and we're both calm and resting on the sofa – together. But please stop shutting me out like this."

He nodded and she could see some warmth in his eyes again, though his face still didn't give away much. "I'll be waiting for you in the living room then." He faltered a little, "I bought some ice cream, if you like…"

She released his arm, pecked him on the cheek and said with a small smile, "Alright. I'll bring some of that as well."

* * *

Patrick sat on the sofa solving Sudoku puzzles when she came in with tea, coffee, and ice cream on a tray. He looked up from his booklet and put it away as she approached. "Need a hand?" he offered.

"No, thank you. Everything's under control," she answered with a warm smile. She sat down her burden, handed him both a mug and a giant bowl with ice cream and two spoons in it, making it clear, she intended to share it with him. He took a sip of his tea and put both the beverage and their treat down on the coffee table, when he noticed her hovering uncertainly by his side without actually taking a seat. "I… This is a bit awkward," she murmured.

"Can't have that, can we?" he said carefully. He leaned back on the couch and patted his lap. "Come, sit with me, Teresa."

She cast him a thankful but uneasy look and lowered herself haltingly on his lap. He pulled her legs up, so she was sitting crosswise, her feet on the sofa beside his thigh. One of his arms came around her waist and he rested his hand on her thigh, stroking it lightly. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment. "Comfy?" he asked with a grin.

She nodded and pressed a kiss to his neck. "So you aren't mad anymore?" she inquired with caution.

"I wasn't mad, love. Just very, very confused, to be honest. But I'll get really mad if you don't grab that ice cream bowl immediately. I would do it myself, but I'm – shall we say – otherwise occupied right now…" he answered teasingly.

Teresa shifted her head so she could press a kiss to one side of his grinning mouth, sporting a relieved smile herself. Then she bent to the side and retrieved their dessert. Patrick blatantly ignored the spoon she tried to hand him. She eyed him warily. "I thought you wanted ice cream?"

"It'll taste much better from your spoon," he stated as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"Oh really?" She raised her brows, looking rather skeptical. She dug the spoon into their treat and filled it with a generous portion.

"Yep, " he confirmed. "It's a proven fact." And as if to emphasize the truth in his statement he promptly stole the first spoonful from right outside of her open mouth.

She growled and glared dangerously, reminding him that it was never a good idea to get between Teresa Lisbon and ice cream. And so as a peace offering, he kissed her, sharing the ice cream in his mouth with her. She moaned with obvious pleasure, and they continued to devour both the dessert and each other that way until the bowl was empty. "Best ice cream ever," she sighed afterwards and he couldn't agree more.

* * *

They sat a while in silence, her head nestled up in the crook between his throat and shoulder, her lips nuzzling the exposed skin there. "You promised me an explanation, Teresa," he finally said with a sigh, reluctant to break the peace.

"Yeah, you're right," she mumbled against his throat.

He started to play with her hair in a comforting manner. "Why are you so hesitant? I'm not gonna bite - well, at least not unless you want me to." He tried to ease the mood.

"I'm very comfy right now, and I won't be anymore then," she mumbled against his skin again.

"You know, you just have to turn your head a tiny bit so your words won't be quite as blurred. Other than that you can stay right where you are." He started to massage her scalp gently.

"You might not want me to after my explanation." She turned her head and looked up at him with unhappy eyes.

"Nonsense, Teresa. I'm rather sure I've figured out most of it already anyway and you're still sitting here on my lap. So no worries, okay? Just talk. I want to know we're on the same page." His hand continued the tender ministrations to her head.

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean, you've figured it out?" He raised his brows and grinned. "Ah, never mind, of course you have, oh great psychic one."

"No such thing as psychics, Lisbon." He played along, trying to keep the conversation light and open. "Now fess up, woman."

"Why don't you tell me? You said you already know anyway, so…" she replied a bit sullen.

He sighed. "Is it really that hard to talk about for you?" She nodded. "Fine. Feel free to interrupt and correct me, should I err. Not very likely, but who knows…" He said with a smirk.

"Cocky bastard," she murmured.

"Nah, just an excellent observer, my dear. Well, okay. You read my contract last night and you're not happy with the content, " he started.

"It's outrageous!" she interjected, anger visible on her whole face.

"As I said, you are not happy with the content. And you think it shows that I don't value my work and myself enough because I let myself be treated like that. Am I right so far?" he inquired.

She nodded.

He looked satisfied with himself. "Now we're getting to the slightly confusing part. Because instead of confronting me with your concerns you started an absurd conversation about money, which doesn't fit in with the rest. One which indicates you're not content with our current living situation and…"

She interrupted him vehemently at that point. "No! You've got it all wrong."

"Oh, really? I think I fully understand it. It was very remiss of me not to offer you any rent. I'm sorry I didn't hit on it myself. I didn't mean to take advantage of you like that," he admitted shamefully.

"No, Patrick, it's not like that. I invited you into my home and there were no strings attached to that offer. In fact I neither want nor need any money from you. You've been buying all our food, that's more than enough in my book," she hurried to object.

He snorted. "Come on, Lisbon. Don't insult me like that. I'm an adult. I'm perfectly capable of providing for myself. I don't want or need any charity. I want to be on equal footing with you and I won't let money issues stand between us."

"They won't. It's just that right now you certainly don't have the means and…" she tried to explain.

"Stop right there, Teresa. You don't know anything about my financial situation, okay? I get by obviously, don't I? There's no reason for you to suddenly doubt that. I've been doing alright. I WILL be paying my fair share from now on. I won't back down on that one," he answered with determination.

"But… But that contract, Patrick. You only get what? Maybe a thousand after taxes? That's not enough to get by. It's a scandal, really. I can't live with that. You have a job, an important one. You're a top-notch investigator and the CBI should be grateful to have you. That outrageous piece of crap they call a contract doesn't reflect that at all and…" she ranted indignantly, until he interrupted her.

"Please don't concern yourself with my contract, Teresa. It's fine. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tried to pacify her.

She shook her head in defiance. "No. I can't let this go, Jane. It's just not right. And I can't believe that Minelli or Hightower would be part of such a farce. I have half a mind to visit Virgil and punch his nose for this and…"

Patrick stroked her back in an attempt to calm her down and detain her rant, "They didn't. Please cool down, love. My contract wasn't always like this. Please relax, okay?"

She looked at him in astonishment. "It wasn't always like this?" she repeated. "But what changed and why and when?"

He tsked. "So many questions… I… It's only been like this since after the whole Timothy Carter incident. And it's okay. Please just forget about it. I should've never mentioned that damn contract to you, but I thought you already… anyway. It's fine, okay?" He tried to wave the whole matter aside.

"So this is Bertram's work? Should have known," she huffed. "Still, I don't get it. I mean, I would have kind of understood it, if the CBI had decided not to reinstate you at all, all things considered. But why would they employ you under these conditions? It doesn't make sense. And I won't accept it. Never!"

Patrick sighed. "You really have to let it go Lisbon, please. Just forget you ever saw it. Believe me, it's better that way," he pleaded with her.

"No! I won't, no matter what you say. And frankly, I don't understand why you let Bertram treat you that way. You're not usually one to cower to him. More the opposite, actually," she answered, chin raised, stubborn expression firmly in place.

He took a deep breath and sighed again. Then he closed his eyes and looked completely defeated. "I did it for you," he finally mumbled, barely audible.

"What?!" she asked. "I'm not sure I heard you right. What did you just say?"

"I said, I did it for you, Teresa," he repeated a bit louder this time, but he avoided looking at her.

She sat on his lap with an open mouth. Surely she couldn't have heard right. Composing herself again, she inquired quietly, "What do you mean, Patrick? And please look at me."

He did as told and raised his eyes. "I thought you knew. I mean, I thought you'd seen my old contract and my new one as well. So I figured, you already knew," he said with a subdued voice.

"Knew what, Patrick? Please explain because right now I honestly don't get it," she said, caressing his cheek.

"It was the price Bertram asked for, you know. To reinstate you," he replied sheepishly. "And I'm willing to pay it, so please just let it go, okay? I nearly cost you your job – many times in fact – and this is the least I could do. I know how important it is for you and I couldn't let Bertram turn you into the scapegoat for my idiocy. And I thought you knew it anyway." He lowered his eyes again.

Teresa was speechless, completely and utterly speechless, which was a very alien feeling for her. Patrick had done this for her? Two years ago? And he'd assumed she'd figured it out and accepted this ridiculous gesture from him without any protest? That she had stood for the exploitation of one of her team, of her family, in exchange for her job? How could he think something like this?

On the other hand, why shouldn't he? He couldn't have possibly known that she'd never even taken a look at his contract, either before or after the Carter affair. And she remembered that Bertram had sent her the document FYI. She'd just not paid it any attention. But Jane couldn't possibly have known that because it was admittedly totally contrary to her usual way of operating. So the only logical conclusion to draw for him was in fact the one he had drawn, namely that her reinstatement was more important to her than fair working conditions for her consultant.

Consequently, she'd been right in a way, that him accepting this contract showed his lack of self-esteem once more, just not in the way she'd thought. It was worse actually. The blame lay with HER. She'd made him believe he wasn't worth more to her.

Silent tears of sadness and frustration ran down her cheeks. How must their earlier conversation have sounded to him? Her asking for all that money from him and telling him how much she got for her work for the CBI? Like she was taunting him? Rubbing it in?

The only comforting thing right now was the fact that he knew and had known for a few days that she actually didn't have any prior knowledge of this whole mess.

* * *

**TBC**

**As usual: I appreciate all and every bit of feedback, no matter how short or long, positive or negative.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Warning: Explicit sexual content  
**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Teresa. I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, can't we just forget this whole thing?" he pleaded again. But she only shook her head desperately, tears still running. "You know, this is exactly why I hate money. All it ever does is cause problems." He sighed heavily. His hands took hold of her face and his thumbs tried to stem the flood of tears. "Please, Teresa. What can I do to make this alright again? I can write down my own budget, if you want. Show you that I'm doing okay? Would that help?" But her face still only showed sadness and despair, the tears coming with increasing speed. "Tell me, Teresa. Anything. I would do anything. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm… what did I do to make you so sad?"

With a tear-choked voice, still shaking her head, she finally managed to say, "Nothing, Patrick. You did nothing. Stop blaming yourself for my tears. I'm just frustrated and angry and feeling helpless and stupid and…" she stopped speaking and hid her face on his chest, her arms coming around his back, pulling him as close as possible. "I love you so much," she mumbled into his shirt.

He rubbed her back comfortingly, for once at a loss with what was going on with his lover. He kissed the top of her head and started to tell her in a calming tone how much he loved her and that everything was fine.

It was so nice to inhale his scent again, relaxing and reassuring. That and his soothing words helped her to find her composure again. She raised her head and searched his eyes, finding only love and maybe a bit uncertainty shining from them. "Patrick?"

"Yes, Teresa?" he asked warmly.

She blushed a little but didn't let that faze her. "Would you please make love to me? I really want to feel you inside of me."

He smiled with tender eyes. "The pleasure would all be mine." A moment later he realized, what he'd said and had to chuckle. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

The unintended giggle that escaped her warmed his heart, and though his words had really been a lapse, he was glad, he'd managed to ease her mood. "Do you want to move this to the bedroom, love?" he inquired.

She nodded and he got up with her in his arms bridal style and took her up the stairs. "I'm still not over the fact, that you actually have this kind of muscle, Jane," she told him on the way, a bit uncomfortable with being carried.

"You're not exactly an elephant, Lisbon. And what about me? Imagine what I have to go through? I'm absolutely not over the fact that you can tackle men more than thrice your size," he teased, glad to see her smile again.

* * *

They didn't waste much time on any foreplay this time around. They both knew what they wanted was to be connected as closely as possible. So they only helped each other out of their clothes and lay down on the bed afterwards. He climbed half on top of her, his fingers searching for her core, parting her lips with two of them entering her, while they engaged in a passionate kiss. He found her wet already. She moaned into his mouth when his fingers started an exploration of her depths. He played her a little, penetrating her as deeply as possible eliciting several groans and sighs. He crooked his fingers, stroking her inner walls and making her pant. "Please, Patrick," she begged breathlessly.

Getting the hint, he retracted his fingers. Making sure she was watching, he brought the digits up to his mouth and licked off her juices. Her eyes became even wilder with need at this erotic display and not wanting to wait any longer he lowered himself fully on top of her and guided his length to her entrance. He remembered to don a condom at the last moment before he pushed into her slowly until he was buried fully inside.

They both moaned, their mouths finding and devouring each other. She could taste herself on him which, if at all possible, turned her on even more. They relished the deep connection they felt at this moment. Nothing mattered but them right now. Not the world outside, nor their dispute from earlier. This was an affirmation of their love, of the fact that nothing could destroy it, that it would conquer all.

He looked intensely into her eyes and started to take her with slow, deep thrusts. "You feel so good around me, Teresa. You're so soft and tight and wet. I want you so much, I would do this the whole day if I could. Home, this is being at home, Emy. Inside you is my home. I love you, I need you, I want you," he whispered, still keeping a steady pace.

Her legs came around his butt, trying to urge him into her even deeper. "Oh god, " she panted. "Oh god yes. Oh Patrick, please. Deeper, please. You feel so good. Wanna feel more of you."

Following her demands, he started to thrust harder, pushing into her with all his might, groaning loudly. She met him stroke for stroke, and soon both were sweating and moaning constantly. He hammered into her, using every trick in the book to prolong the act as much as possible. She was in ecstasy, feeling filled and cared for. He kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples the way he knew drove her crazy. She cried out helplessly as wave after wave of pleasure almost drowned her. And still he was thrusting into her - unyielding, hard, powerful.

She just went with the flow, unable to do anything but follow his lead. He was everywhere, in her, around her, his face a study in abandon, concentrated on her pleasure and his as well. Finally, after a time she found astonishing even in her state, he seemed to have reached the end of his endurance. He gasped for air, sweat soaking his curls. He looked absolutely magnificent to her. "I can't… I have to… I… Gonna come," he stammered.

"Yessss," she hissed, "God yes."

And with a few last, hard thrusts he exploded inside of her with an almost painful shout. It felt like he came and came and came and she pressed him against her as close as possible, holding him through his release.

* * *

He sank down on top of her, totally spent with no remaining strength to hold himself up. He was a bit heavy, but right now, she couldn't care less. His weight felt comforting. "Hope, m't crushn ya," he mumbled. "Gimme a m'n'te."

Her hands tousled his hair playfully. "Take your time, imp. It's fine really. Love to feel you so close still."

It took him several more minutes to recover enough so he could move. He turned them around, so she was the one on top. "Geez, guess I'm not twenty anymore," he joked, still a bit breathless.

"Oh, I think you did passably well – for an old man, that is," she teased him, removing the rather brimmed condom from him.

He chuckled. "Ah, Lisbon, I love your snark. Just wished I wasn't feeling too old to prove to you right now that I'm not old."

"You do know that statement didn't make much sense, don't you?" she told him with mirth shining in her eyes.

He looked at her with mock-worry. "Oh no! You don't think I just SCREWED up my brain, do you?"

"Sometimes you really are a pig, Jane," she half-teased, half-scolded him, while she leaned over the edge of the bed and got rid of the rubber in the little bin she'd placed there just for this purpose after a slightly disgusting experience involving the floor, her bare foot, an early morning and… well.

"Yeah, a dirty, old pig. You love that about me," he stated.

"No, I don't," she said indignantly

"Yes, you do. No need to be ashamed, Lisbon. I love being dirty with you, too," he replied, grinning at her and winking suggestively.

She slapped him on the chest. He growled as if hungry. "Oh, yes, Lisbon. Give it to me. I love it when you hit me, you kinky minx."

Teresa blushed a little at that. "Stop it, Patrick. That's not funny. It's crass. And it's embarrassing."

"It's just the two of us. Why would you be embarrassed? Interesting…" he pondered her reaction.

"Jane, please stop it. You're making me uncomfortable, okay?" she said shyly, avoiding his eyes.

He cupped one of her cheeks gently and was relieved when she nestled up against it. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to make you uneasy. I'm just fooling around. Why are you so affected though? Would you tell me?"

She blushed some more but dared to look at him. He'd lost his teasing expression and gazed at her with genuine interest and warmth. "I've never been particularly comfortable with talking about stuff like that," she murmured.

"With stuff you mean sex in general, I presume? Or something specific?" he asked carefully.

"In general, I guess. I was raised a Catholic, Patrick. You know that," she explained, still hesitantly, but with a little more strength in her voice.

He nodded. "But it doesn't feel like you're uncomfortable with what we're actually doing. I mean, it seems like you're open to explore and all that. Why's it so difficult to talk about it?"

"I don't know, " she admitted. "And no, I don't feel strange doing it. Rather the opposite," she added, blushing again.

"My guess? In a way putting words to it makes it more concrete or real. And words hold a certain meaning in your religion, don't they?" He paused a moment and then quoted, "'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and God was the Word'."

She raised her brows. "You know the Bible?" she inquired, voice reflecting her astonishment.

"Meh. Part of my memory palace. Not the whole thing. Mostly the New Testament. Couldn't be bothered with all those rules in the Moses Books. You know how I feel about rules," he explained with a cheeky grin.

"But why?" she asked, really puzzled.

He started to caress her back absent-mindedly. "Oh, it's an important part of our cultural heritage, isn't it? But to be honest, it was a bet. Which I won, of course. In a blaze of glory, I might add." He smirked.

"A bet? You memorized the Bible for a bet?" She shook her head, not sure, whether she should be indignant or not. "I'm certain, there's a hell specifically for heretics like you, Jane."

"And I'm certain we'll be a merry bunch down there," he chuckled, but turned serious again when he saw her face fall. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of your convictions just because I don't share them. Forgive me, Teresa."

She played with one of his curls, which had decided to squiggle especially unruly on his forehead. "You didn't offend me, Patrick. I'm not that pious. You've actually witnessed me cursing in a church, though it was entirely your fault of course… No, I'm miffed because I just realized that YOU probably know more about the Bible than me! That's VERY irritating." She huffed.

"I don't know if it's any comfort, but I've actually made a real priest burst out in tears pretty much for the same reasons. So no need to feel bad…" he snickered.

"Wow, really?" she asked, pecking him on the nose. He nodded, but his face turned dark afterwards and he got a far away look. She noticed it immediately. "What happened, Patrick?"

"Trust me, Teresa, you REALLY don't want to know. I'm not proud of it anymore, though I was back then. It was a very bad con, even by my former standards. I'd rather not talk about it. Some things are better left untold." Self-disgust was visible on his face. "My only consolation: I checked up on the guy a few years ago, and he seemed genuinely happy. Not a priest anymore, but has a family. Two kids." He sighed heavily.

"It's okay, Patrick. We don't need to talk about that. But about what you said before? It was actually very interesting, you know? What you mentioned about the meaning of words, that they make things more real somehow. I think you're right." She blushed a bit once more. "It's like talking about sex makes me admit to myself that I'm actually having it and enjoying it. It's rather dumb to be honest, come to think of it. But it makes me feel like maybe I'm doing something wrong. I don't really feel that, of course, but…" she rambled.

He pressed a finger to her lips to cut her off. "Hush, Teresa. You don't need to defend or explain yourself."

She bit into his finger playfully, eliciting an indignant "Ow" from him. Grinning, she said, "I wasn't defending myself, you idiot. I was just thinking out loud. Talking myself through it. I was having quite a revelation – not of the divine sort though, I'm afraid. Maybe I do have some strange issues concerning sex. I have to ponder that a bit more. I mean, I was a student at a school led by nuns and they certainly didn't condone sex outside of marriage."

"But then again, I will marry you some day. So you're practically engaged, Teresa. Maybe that'll make it more acceptable to your subconscious?" he suggested. "And no. That wasn't my official proposal. I certainly hope I can do better than that when the time is ripe."

She kissed him with rapture. Though he might not have proposed outright, he'd promised her two times now, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it to happen.

And somehow he was actually right. Knowing how serious this relationship was had made her much more open for their intimacy. She'd allowed herself to explore, submit, and enjoy without inhibition. He'd taken her to places she'd not even known existed. And they hadn't even done anything really experimental or exotic so far. Still, it had felt completely different with him than it had ever felt before. And she looked forward to discovering more together, craved it actually.

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**TBC**

**Don't be shy, folks, leave a little line or two for me. It's the best motivation in the world and would mean a lot to me...**


	33. Chapter 33

**Warning: More explicit stuff in this one...**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the quotations used in this chapter and I mean the rightful owners no disrespect by using them - quite the contrary in fact.**

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**A/N: This is a slightly longer chapter as I found no good place to cut it, but I'm sure you won't be too disappointed about that... I would mostly describe it as the fluffy calm before the storm that's gonna come in the next chapters with the plot tightening... but it's not pure fluff. Anyway, enjoy!  
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"Wow, that's a blissful smile," he stated after their kiss had ended. "I mean, the kiss was good, no doubt about that. I'm an expert kisser after all, and a charming, handsome fellow as well, but that's a very special little smile you have going there."

Her smile brightened even more. "Idiot," she scolded, but it sounded much more like an endearment. "I love you, Patrick. I don't have the words to tell you how much." She spoke seriously though her smile was still bright and blissful.

He caressed her cheek tenderly and to her further delight, he started to sing softly with his beautiful tenor, "Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand. / All you have to do is close your eyes / And just reach out your hands and touch me / Hold me close don't ever let me go / More than words is all I ever needed you to show / Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me / 'Cause I'd already know."

Another passionate kiss and arms that held him as close as possible were the reward for his effort. "Our song," she whispered afterwards.

"Is it?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "In my head it's always been, ever since our dance back at that high school reunion case. It's how I felt. I couldn't admit my feelings, wasn't ready to put them into words, but I've tried to show you."

"Yes you have, Teresa. Always having my back and putting up with my little games. Being there for me, kicking my ass when necessary. Yes, you have shown me. And I appreciate that." He smiled at her. Teasingly, he added, "And the song isn't too bad, so it can just as well be ours."

She slapped his chest playfully. "It's not just not bad, it's a very nice song. And now I've even gotten that tremendously handsome, but mean and cold-hearted guy I never dared to speak to but worshipped from afar."

"Yes, mean and cold-hearted, that's me. You know, Lisbon, you have quite the memory. Not bad at all," he praised her.

"I remember all of the most significant moments between us, Jane. And that was our first dance," she said, voice dreamy. "And you're not mean and cold-hearted, you only pretend to be," she scolded him.

He chuckled. "No chance fooling you. So, Agent Lisbon, what should be the song for our second dance? I'm sure you've it all figured out already, haven't you?"

She blushed. "How did you know? Ah, forget I even asked…" She huffed.

"Come on, Teresa, don't pull such a face just because you're an open book to me. On the bright side, I've really no idea which song you've picked out as our second," he teased her.

"Actually, it's not our second. It's yours," she mumbled, blush still present.

"Mine? I have a song? I mean, you have a song for me? How delightfully exciting. Wait, is it 'Who Do You Think You Are' from your buddies the Spice Girls maybe, or even better: 'Cold, Cold Heart,' that Hank Williams one?" he suggested with an eager grin.

She shook her head. "No. Though your second choice could've been an option, I'll grant you that. But considering our current situation it's a bit off, wouldn't you agree? Seems to me like that cold, cold heart of yours has pretty much melted…"

He smiled warmly, "Like ice cream in the summer sun, my dear. Now spit it out, what's this song of mine?"

Her blushed returned full force and she quickly hid her face on his chest. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you," she mumbled.

"Oh, come on. No fair," he whined, his hands buried in her hair massaging her scalp. "How am I supposed to dance with you to the sound of it without knowing which one it is? Is it that bad?"

"It's not bad," she muttered. "It's just a bit embarrassing I guess, and very personal. I've been thinking of it as yours and in a way mine for so long…"

"Now I'm really intrigued, Teresa. You know I'll find out anyway, sooner or later. I'm gonna nag you with my prying until you're so annoyed you'll do anything to shut me up. So you better confess now before I become totally insufferable."

She sighed and grumbled, "I know. That's why I should have never mentioned anything. But alright. Have to face the inevitable I guess. It's 'True Colors' from Cyndi Lauper." Her blush intensified.

"I think I may have heard it. But I'll have to look up the lyrics," he admitted. "Doesn't really ring a bell."

"You wanna hear it?" she inquired carefully. "I've got it on my cell phone," she confessed quietly, face a picture of embarrassment.

"Sure. Let's hear it," he answered, looking very excited.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand where Patrick had placed it earlier while undressing her. She fumbled a bit with the buttons, nervous and insecure about how he would take this. She'd found a beautiful unplugged version on the net one day and downloaded it. A moment later the song started to play and they both listened avidly:

'You with the sad eyes / Don't be discouraged / Oh, I realize / It's hard to take courage / In a world full of people / You can lose sight of it all / And the darkness all inside you / Can make you feel so small / But I see your true colors / Shining through / I see your true colors /And that's why I love you / So don't be afraid to let them show / Your true colors / True colors / Are beautiful like a rainbow

Show me a smile then, / Don't be unhappy / Can't remember when / I last saw you laughing / If this world makes you crazy / And you've taken all you can bear / You call me up / Because you know I'll be there / And I'll see your true colors / Shining through / I see your true colors / And that's why I love you / So don't be afraid to let them show / Your true colors / Your true colors / Are beautiful like a rainbow.'

During the repeat of the last refrain, they'd started to kiss, or rather he'd pulled her into a kiss, a sweet one, slow and deep.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, when the last notes had trailed of. "I'm really touched. It's…" he swallowed audibly, eyes glazed with unshed tears, " It's beautiful."

"No, Patrick. You are. You're beautiful," she answered, voice thick with emotion. She pulled him into another kiss.

* * *

They just lay in the increasing darkness of the bedroom in silence, enjoying each other's presence, lazily caressing and fondling each other. At least half an hour went by this way, before Patrick spoke up. "Teresa? I really don't want to upset you again, but I think we should finish our earlier conversation. It's just going to stand between us otherwise and I don't want that. I hope, we can find some common ground on this." He stroked her back in soothing circles.

"You are surprisingly good at all this relationship stuff, Patrick. Very mature," she said with a bit of awe in her voice.

He cast her a somewhat offended look. "Come on, Lisbon. I was married, for heaven's sake. For nearly ten years. We even raised a child together. Give me some credit."

She felt thoroughly chastised, and rightfully so, she had to admit. He had a lot more experience when it came to being with someone than she had. At the age when she'd felt herself to be too young and adventurous to settle down with Greg and had run like a coward the moment things got really serious, the man holding her had already been in a committed relationship with his future wife. Hell, he had provided for Angela so she could go to college and managed to hold things together under difficult circumstances.

Lisbon had absolutely no right to question his abilities when it came to making a love attachment work. Her face was very apologetic when she addressed him again. "Sorry, Patrick. You're right of course. You're actually much better at this than I am, and much more experienced as well. And I have to agree with you. We should talk the matter through, though I have absolutely no idea how to resolve this issue."

He pecked her on the nose. "You're forgiven. I know, it's easy to forget that I can behave like an adult on occasion when my normal conduct indicates a much younger personality." He smirked.

She had to laugh out loud. "That's a very elegant and diplomatic way of putting it, imp." But turning serious again she added, "Still, I shouldn't forget that you're a mature man because I have seen enough evidence of it. And frankly, I wouldn't be with you otherwise. I'm not a pedophiliac after all." The last part was accompanied by a wink.

He chuckled. "I certainly hope not. And at least my body isn't particularly childlike in my humble opinion…"

"No, it certainly isn't," she agreed, wiggling her hips a bit to tease an especially manly part of his anatomy.

He groaned. "Stop that, woman. Or we'll never have that conversation, I'm afraid."

She pretended to contemplate that for a moment, continuing her slight stimulation. "It would be an easy way out… But as we're both so very mature, maybe rather not…"

He was half-hard by now, but she knew he would be able to compose himself again quickly. She'd not aroused him beyond the point of no return. "You are a little minx, Teresa. But you and I will have that talk now, because I won't go to sleep tonight with the matter still hanging over us. So, about my contract: I don't want you to get involved. I really mean it, Lisbon. I want you to let it go." He looked very earnest and determined.

Her returning glare was at least equally as stubborn. "I don't know if I can, Jane."

He sighed heavily. "Then please tell me exactly how you perceive the situation. Maybe if I know what has you so concerned, I will be able to assuage your fears." He cupped her cheek and forced her to keep eye contact with him.

So she told him how she couldn't stand to think that he'd assumed she would accept his awful working conditions, that it pained her to know he disregarded himself and his work like that, and how it seemed like he'd thought she did so as well. How horrible it was for her to know that he'd had to believe her job meant more to her than his wellbeing did. And it just wasn't right that a man who actually saved lives with his abilities and made the world a safer place didn't even earn enough money to get by.

When she was finished, he looked at her seriously. "Teresa, have you ever taken the time and looked at it from my point of view?"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes, all the time. That's what I've been trying to tell you, and…"

He interrupted her with a finger to her lips. "No, Teresa. You haven't. Not really."

She was shocked into silence, eyes big as saucers. "But… I…" she stammered helplessly.

"Would you let me explain, love?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Well, I have to admit that the time in Bertram's office, when he contrived that offending piece of paper telling me he wanted to teach me a lesson in humbleness for once - it was rather humiliating." The utter disgust on his face was nearly tangible. "Not one of my fondest memories, to be honest. But Teresa, please try to look at the situation. Really look at it!" He pleaded with her, his eyes and his voice urging her to listen and understand.

"You claim you can't live with fact that I might have believed you thought your job was more important to you than my happiness. Is that right?" She nodded eagerly. "Please turn that sentence around for once. Or rather I will do it for you: I can't live with the fact that you might think money or better working conditions would be more important to me than your happiness, Teresa."

He paused for a moment to give her time to absorb that. Her eyes grew wide, when comprehension slowly dawned on her face. "Yes, Teresa. Your job, your team – that's a big part of your happiness."

He pecked her lips, but re-initiated eye contact with her again right afterwards. "You might call it disregard for my own worth, but I'd like to call it regard for yours. I'd like to think I'm not so shallow I'd leave my best friend out in the cold just to earn a bit more money or avoid swallowing my pride in front of an arrogant asshole like Bertram."

She needed a moment to collect herself fully, but then she nodded. "I think I understand, Patrick. I might not like it, but I understand. And thank you. I appreciate it. I really do. It's just hard to comprehend. And we will think of something to change this contract, make no mistake, but I won't force the issue and you'll call the shots, okay?"

He cast her a beautiful smile. "That's all I'm asking. Look at the bright side. I'm sure the tides will turn again and Bertram won't be the director forever. I promise, I'll be an adamant negotiator for my own rights when the opportunity arises."

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They sealed it with a kiss. "But Patrick? I would feel a lot better, if you told me how you make ends meet. I know that it's none of my business, but…"

"Hush, my dear. It's no big secret. I don't mind you knowing it," he reassured her, playing with her hair and locking eyes with her. "Well, as I gave away most of my liquid means after my family died, my worldly possessions are limited to what you already know about. I have some personal stuff in storage still. Couldn't really get myself to go through it yet. But other than that: I have the house and the cars. And a cottage in the mountains, which I rent out on occasion – one of my sources of income."

Teresa listened attentively, soaking up all the new information about her secretive lover. "So to support myself during the last years I've sold a few of my vintage cars. And I'm doing some freelance work during my off-time for a car repair shop which specializes in vintage cars."

She looked at him with honest astonishment. He was really full of surprises. "Yes, Teresa. I like to fix up old cars. It's a dear hobby of mine. I've actually restored all the cars I own myself. Some of them together with Angie." He got a far-away look. "Julie was our first," he divulged. "Faithful old Julie." He smiled fondly. "She was just a pile of junk when we bought her for $100, and look at her now."

Lisbon caught on immediately, suddenly getting a whole new understanding for the nearly absurd connection Jane had with his beloved Citroen. She scolded herself for not figuring it out sooner. Most of the things he did that looked irrational on the outside usually held a deeper meaning. At heart, her Patrick was a big romantic – she'd known that about him for years. With a devious grin, she decided to call him a senti-mentalist from now on… He would love that one – she was sure.

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"Am I amusing you, Teresa?" he asked, raising his brows.

"In a way. But not like you might think. I think it's very touching. I mean, the car thing. Julie? She, I mean, it has a name?" she inquired.

He chuckled. "Ah, I see. I've never officially introduced you. How awfully remiss of me. We'll have to remedy that at the earliest convenience. And I promise, I won't rat you out and tell her all the mean things you've said about her over the years."

"How considerate of you," she mocked him. "But back to the whole money issue: do you really earn enough like this?"

He pecked her nose. "Still not convinced I can pay my rent?" he teased, which earned him a death glare from her. "Alright, alright. No need to get all grumpy. I'll have you know that vintage cars are in demand. And mine are all in top condition. The last one I sold was a 1965 Austin Healey for $50,000. I hope you can rest assured now."

He grinned at her awed look. "And restoring cars isn't too badly paid. I'm good at it and people who're willing to spend real money on buying a vintage car aren't known to be stingy where maintenance of their babies is concerned either. Time is the biggest problem because I don't have that much. I do it during sleepless nights sometimes."

"Wow! That's really a surprise, Patrick. I hadn't pegged you as a craftsman. You didn't even attempt to help Rigs and Cho when we had that break-down two weeks ago," she scolded him.

"Ah, but where would the fun have been in that? Watching them was the best entertainment I've had in a long time. What an utterly delightful display of machismo." He smirked evilly, and even Lisbon had to admit that their male teammates had provided quite the show. "Besides, these new, horrible Sport Utility Vehicles you cops prefer are no treat at all. In most cases you really can't fix them yourself because of all the electronic stuff. One little computer glitch and the whole contraption stops." He looked disgusted. "Not my cup of tea."

She just had to kiss those pouting lips and caress his cheek afterwards. "Just two more questions, Jane: where did you learn to repair cars, and do you do it in a three-piece-suit?"

He laughed heartily at the second one. "No, I do it in the nude – pays much better," he joked. Her eyes widened a fraction. You could never be too sure with him after all. "Nah, Lisbon. I have to disappoint you, though I would work in the nude for you." He could spot some interest on her face and chuckled. "I have a coverall at the garage."

Her interest was definitely sparked. She imagined him wearing nothing but a coverall, curls in disarray from working, some specks of oil on his face, a bit sweaty, enhancing his natural scent. Not bad. Not bad at all. She blushed, the sudden rush of arousal taking her by surprise. To her mortification, she heard him snicker. 'Busted' she thought and sure enough he started talking again, "Dilated pupils, red tinge on the face, a surge of tenseness. Why, Teresa? Does the thought of me in a coverall really turn you on that much?"

She hid her face on his chest again, feeling completely humiliated. Why had the smug bastard to be so damn perceptive? Jane of course sensed her deep unease. He stroked her back lovingly and whispered in her ear, "Come on, love. Don't be so embarrassed. I have quite a few fantasies of my own about you. I'll reveal some of them to you at another time. Maybe I'll even be able to convince you to make one or two of them come true."

"Really?" She looked up at this revelation.

He grinned naughtily. "Yep. And you know what? I promise I'll bring my coverall home with me next time. Needs a wash anyway come to think of it," he told her with a suggestive wink. "It's all stained and sweaty," he continued with a seductive voice.

She couldn't quell a moan at the picture his words evoked, at the same time cursing him for being able to read her like that. Suddenly she found herself flipped over on her side with Patrick facing her. Her head rested on his upper arm, which held her close to him. His free hand sneaked in between them and found her core. She shivered with arousal and groaned when his fingers parted her lips and played with her clit.

He started to talk again, quietly, with a husky voice, right into her ear and she closed her eyes and just listened. "I'm wearing a blue coverall, without sleeves, and nothing else because it's so hot inside of the garage. I've been working hard for hours. I'm a bit dirty and sweaty, curls all over the place. I've just checked the oil-level on a 1962 Imperial Crown. Put the rod deep inside the tray, all the way to the bottom, feeling my way around the whole pan, finding it all good and wet." He mimicked his words perfectly with his fingers in her and she was so hot she was about to combust.

"I have to extract the rod very carefully. This is an extremely tender engine. But the whole channel is all oily and oh so wet, the rod has no problem to move up. No resistance at all. Just smooth material and delicious wetness embracing it from all sides on its way up." His finger followed his descriptions and lingered at her clit again. She shivered and panted, silently urging him on to continue, to speak and touch her, all her senses reduced to hearing and feeling and the pictures he created in her mind.

"But just before the rod can leave completely, I sense a tiny hump. My movements are feather light, so I won't cause any damage." She was extremely close now, moaning 'Oh god, oh god' with abandon, face blissful and the most beautiful sight he could possibly imagine. So he decided to release her. "I move the rod to and fro, to and fro, freeing it gently, so I can finally pull it over the edge and out it comes." And right on cue she came violently, surrendering completely to her feelings, shouting his name. Her heart beat like mad and she panted coming down from her high. He just held her close and petted her flank lightly.

When she'd caught her breath again several minutes later she looked into his warm and slightly smug eyes and stammered helplessly, "That was… I… Wow."

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I'll take that as approval, my dear." He chuckled.

She took another minute to compose herself, before she tried again. "It was incredibly intense. I…" she turned a bit shy and blushed. "I loved it. Thank you, Patrick."

"It was all in your head, Teresa. The mind is a powerful tool. I barely did anything. But you're very welcome. Seeing you so aroused and blissful is a beautiful experience. Very gratifying. So I should probably be the one to thank you." He looked at her with pure affection.

They shared another kiss. "Oh, and for the last answer I owe you," he started a while later, "Fixing cars is one of the first skills you learn on a carnival, Teresa. I practically grew up on a moving parking lot. And those vehicles weren't the newest ones either. Always something to repair." After a moment he added, "So now I hope this whole money matter is resolved for the time being?"

She nodded her consent.

"Good. Then you'll get $800 from me at the earliest convenience," he stated with finality.

"No," she protested. "That's entirely too much. I only came up with that sum to force your hand," she admitted sheepishly. "$500 max."

"Let's make it $600, so it'll add up to one grand total with the housekeeping money. Deal?" he bargained.

She hemmed and hawed a little but gave in at last. "Deal."

They sealed it with another kiss and decided to call it a night afterwards.

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**TBC**

**It's getting closer and closer to 100 reviews for this fic and I'm truly happy about that. Anyone who wants to be the lucky one to post 100th review? Well, all you need to do is write one and hope for the best... ;-) And I promise, I'll appreciate and answer all the others as well.**


	34. Chapter 34

**No warnings this time...**

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The next day at work Lisbon got a call from the coroner's office informing her, that Alexander Jane's body was to be released, waiting to be claimed by his next of kin. She asked Jane into her office to inform him and had barely finished telling him the news, when Van Pelt came in accompanied by Director Bertram's new personal assistant.

Patrick had pegged out the young man as a bootlicker the first moment they'd met and liked him about as much as his old one, though he'd managed to hide it slightly better this time – maybe because Julian Baker hadn't had the audacity to touch him. Whatever the reasons Teresa was very glad he hadn't alienated the man right from the start and made the dealings with the director even more difficult, especially now that she knew about Jane's intricate contract situation.

"Boss? Mr. Baker says, he has two things to clear up with you at Director Bertram's orders. Something about a DNA-analysis for the Fisher-case and something about Keen," the female agent explained.

"Thanks Grace. I'll take it from here. Mr. Baker, why don't you take a seat? Mr. Jane, would you leave us alone for a moment?" Lisbon said.

Patrick nodded and got up from the visitor's chair but covertly cast her a worried look.

"No, Agent Lisbon. It's Director Bertram's express wish, that Mr. Jane should be present during this conversation," the young man stated in the eager and diligent tone he always seemed to use.

Patrick shrugged, went over to the sofa and took a seat there. Teresa indicated for Baker to sit down across from her. "Well, Mr. Baker. What is it the director wants to know?"

"It has come to Director Bertram's attention that someone on this team ordered a DNA-analysis as evidence in the Fisher-case. The director is worried because he had no prior knowledge that any additional evidence had been found and wishes to get an explanation, Agent."

Jane could see Lisbon blanch a bit. She kept her composure relatively well, but he was afraid she'd blab so he chimed in at once. "Ah, Julian, what a lucky coincidence that I'm here right now because Agent Lisbon actually doesn't know anything about this matter."

Baker turned in his direction. "What do you mean, Jane? Is that one of your little schemes? Director Bertram warned me that you might be pulling some tricks again. He asked me to remind you that you're skating on thin ice."

Patrick snickered disparagingly and waved his hand dismissively, "Skating-shmating… now do you want to get that story or not? Bertram might not be too happy with you if you don't get the truth from me because you wasted your time making idle threats, upsetting me, so I clammed up."

Baker cast him a fearful look and was about to apologize when Teresa intervened.

"Jane!" she warned her lover, very worried what kind of tale he would spin. She'd half a mind to just tell the director the truth.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you. You might not like it. It's not completely legal, strictly speaking," Jane started and Lisbon's tension-level increased tenfold, while the young man swallowed heavily and looked utterly uncomfortable at the thought of having to inform the director of this.

"Oh come on, don't look so worried," Jane told them merrily. "It's not that bad. I ordered the test," he added with total nonchalance.

Baker seemed a bit annoyed now. "I figured as much, Jane. But why?"

"Ah, well, let me tell you a secret, Julian. The test? It's not really related to the Fisher-case," Patrick whispered conspiratorial.

"Jane? Cut the crap," Teresa scolded him, losing her temper with his little game.

He waved his hands in a pacifying gesture and continued, "Patience, Lisbon, patience. I'm getting to the good part. As you both know, my father was killed ten days ago."

Baker nodded looking extremely uncomfortable with the subject. "Yeah, ahm, sorry for your loss, Mr. Jane."

"Ah, don't strain yourself faking sympathy, Julian. I know you couldn't care less," Patrick needled him and the assistant wriggled in his chair in obvious unease. "Well, as it is, in the aftermath of this unfortunate event some people showed up claiming to be relatives of him. You might have heard some rumors about it?"

Baker nodded, still very ill at ease. "Yes. We've heard that there was some kind of attack against you here. A DA from San Jose, right?"

"Ah, always well informed at City Hall, I see. Now, the thing is, I'd never heard of any relatives before. And I should have, don't you agree, Julian? I mean, very strange my father wouldn't have mentioned them, right?" Jane inquired.

The young man nodded again a bit hesitantly and the consultant went on, "See? I thought so too. So when that man attacked me, I recovered some hairs from him. To find out if a DNA-analysis would back up his claim. And since this was without his consent, I couldn't very well take them to a normal lab." At this point he made a supplicating gesture. "I know, it's a bit of an abuse of my position here, but hey, that man's a lawyer. Would've taken an awful long time to get a court order to legalize the testing."

He paused a moment, letting the story sink in, watching the assistant's eyes widen with shock at this impudence. "Tell Bertram that I promise I'll reimburse the CBI for the costs, no harm done. I even arranged it so the lab guys don't have to do any further work aside from the mere essentials. I'll do the rest all on my own," Patrick finished his tale.

"But that's intolerable! The director won't be happy about this. I'm sure there will be consequences, Jane. It's a blatant abuse of resources and…" Baker stammered, indignant.

The consultant looked completely unfazed. "Ah, I'm sure a few allowances can be made for a grieving, mourning son, don't you agree, Julian?" He managed to appear hopeful. "I mean, no harm done after all. I really need to know the truth, you understand? Wouldn't do if some fraud just came along trying to exploit my time of sorrow, claimed to be a relative and tried to steal my hard-earned money. That wouldn't be right, would it?" He cast a distraught glance at Baker. "I'm sure if you could present the matter like this, Julian, that Bertram will be most sympathetic." Jane put on a mask of pleading and despair for good measure, successfully forcing the young assistant to commiserate and take the role of confidant.

Lisbon didn't know whether to laugh and laud Patrick for this or punch his nose. The story was so outrageous that there was a good chance he'd actually get away with it. Bertram would be furious of course, but the idea that someone was trying to con one of his employees – no matter how annoying they were – wouldn't sit well with him either. And that he was responsible for Jane's peculiar financial situation would work to Patrick's advantage too. Once more she was astonished about the way his mind worked. He'd come up with this elaborate tale in a matter of seconds, backed it up with facts enough so it would stand against quite a bit of scrutiny, and had even managed to add a bit of a slight against the director as well.

"Oh yes, maybe, if you put it like that," poor Baker said with an insecure expression.

"Excellent, Julian. Thank you for your understanding. Now there was a second matter you wanted to discuss?" Jane asked.

The assistant nodded eagerly, glad for the change of subject. "Ah, yes. The director wanted me to tell you that Officer Keen has to be transferred to Sacramento County Jail today. I've the necessary paperwork here with me." He handed Lisbon a folder.

"Wait a second, Baker. Bertram can't be serious. Keen is as good as dead as soon as he leaves our custody. He's our most important witness against Red John. He knows him personally," Patrick said with agitation.

"Director Bertram is of the opinion that the CBI can no longer cover the costs for his security detail. People have been doing overtime for over a week now due to the heavy surveillance you've ordered, Agent Lisbon. The director says that with the latest budget cuts, the CBI can't afford this anymore. Furthermore, you haven't managed to get anything useful out of him. Keen will be handled as a high security prisoner. You can interview him there any time. Director Bertram has made sure, that you'll have full access. Nothing will happen to him," the young man explained.

Jane was seething with anger. He'd jumped up from the couch and was pacing nervously. "That stupid idiot! Wasn't it enough that the moron let himself be played by the FBI and lost us Lorelei Martins? Now he risks our best chance yet to get to Red John for a few thousand dollars? That stupid, idiotic, cheap son-of…."

Lisbon interrupted him at this point, "Jane? Compose yourself. Insulting the director won't help our case. I'm as unhappy with this as you are, but please calm down."

"But Lisbon, he's…" Patrick tried again, but Baker interrupted him smugly.

"Director Bertram anticipated your protests. Keen's being taken to the County Jail as we speak. In fact, considering that we've been speaking for quite a while already, I assume that he's already halfway there."

Jane had only shouted a furious "No!" and run from Lisbon's office like a maniac. Teresa had gotten out of her chair in a hurry as well and stood over the young assistant sending a death glare in his direction. "This was a mistake, Baker. And when this turns into the expected disaster, I'll make sure you'll get caught in the fall too. Get out of my office and back to Bertram. Tell him I need to talk to him at his earliest convenience." She all but threw the man out of the room and stormed after Patrick.

* * *

She found him sitting on the floor in the deserted basement outside the holding cells panting, eyes wild and desperate. "He's gone, Lisbon. They've already taken him," he whispered hoarsely. "He's gone."

Teresa sat beside him and took hold of one of his hands, intertwining their fingers, and pulled it onto her lap. Right now she didn't give a damn about anybody seeing them like this. "I know," she said sadly. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I didn't see this one coming at all. I'd never have believed Bertram would do this, not after the last fiasco."

"Sometimes I'm really not sure why I even bother anymore," Jane mumbled brokenly. "It's just one blow after another. One step forward, two steps back… I'm so tired of this, Teresa." His head hung and his shoulders slumped and he looked completely defeated.

Lisbon used her free hand to take a hold of his chin. She turned so she was facing him, forced his head up, and locked eyes with him. "No, Patrick. You're not giving up. We'll get through this together, you, me, and the team. We still have that DNA-analysis and, man, am I ever glad you spun that tale! That was excellent, Patrick. I was about ready to tell Bertram the truth…"

A very tentative, small smile crept up on his lips. "It was rather ingenious, wasn't it? That boot-licker sucked it up like breast milk. One of my better scams, if I might say so myself."

"No reason to get all cocky, Jane," she scolded him lightly, but they both knew she didn't mean it at all because she was looking at him warmly, relieved he'd not lost all of his spark. It always impressed and amazed her, how this man managed to get back on his feet after all the setbacks he'd had to endure over the years.

Patrick got up and pulled her into a standing position as well. "I'll be up in the attic for a while. Have to make a few calls. Funeral arrangements and all that." He sighed.

Checking the corridor and finding it still deserted, she pulled him down into a quick kiss. "I'll be coming up there if you aren't back down in my office in ninety minutes, Patrick. I'm gonna treat you to lunch today."

"That's thoughtful, but I doubt I'll be very hungry, Lisbon."

She frowned. "I'll not allow you to develop some kind of eating disorder, Jane. You need to eat. You've been missing out on too many meals as it is lately. I'm sure you lost at least ten pounds in Vegas."

"Pot, kettle, black, Teresa. That's all I'm saying. But alright, I'll have lunch with you. Only to make sure YOU get something to eat," he replied.

"Okay. If that's what it takes, Patrick."

They walked to the elevator together and went up. They got out and he turned towards the stairs that led up to the attic. "Ninety minutes, Jane," she said before she proceeded to her office.

* * *

He did in fact enter her office 85 minutes later. "Funeral service will be on Monday. Oh, and should you talk to Bertram at some point, tell him I'll be taking that day off whether he likes it or not, and that I'm aware he'll reduce my wages by fifty dollars for it." He laughed disparagingly.

She cast him a grim look. "That'd be so immoral, I don't even have words for it," she huffed. "But I'll do better. The whole team will get the day off. We'll all be with you."

"You don't have to do that, but…" he cleared his throat, "I'd be very glad to have you by my side."

"And that's exactly where I'm gonna be, Patrick," Teresa declared with outmost conviction. "And I'm sure that goes for the rest of the team as well."

"What goes for us as well?" Rigsby voiced the thoughts of all three team members, who'd just entered the office together.

"That we'll accompany Jane to his father's funeral on Monday," Lisbon told them, her look warning off anyone from objecting, not that any of them had any such intentions. They were all nodding avidly.

"We'll be there, Jane," Cho answered for all of them.

Patrick looked slightly uncomfortable. "Thanks, guys. But you really don't have to. Not that I would mind you being there, but…" He made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "I mean, if you don't want to, which would be totally understandable. No one likes funerals after all, well apart from undertakers, I presume, but that doesn't really count," he rambled bashfully.

Van Pelt furrowed her brow. "Of course we'll be there, Jane. We're family. We all went to Wayne's dad's as well."

"Yeah, but that was different," Patrick murmured nearly inaudibly.

"How's it different, Patrick?" Lisbon asked him quietly.

"You know, why, Teresa," he whispered in her ear so only she could hear.

She shook her head. "Can't say that I do," she answered quietly.

Her consultant rolled his eyes and bent down to her ear again. "We all like Wayne, Teresa," he explained in quiet exasperation.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "Cho, close the door," she ordered harshly and the Asian agent did so immediately. "You know what, Jane? I'm fed up with this. We'll resolve this issue now, once and for all. And then we'll go out and have lunch together. The whole team."

Patrick cast her an incredulous look, begging with his eyes for her to stop.

"No, Patrick. You won't stop me. I want this in the open. Could you please repeat what you just told me?" she demanded with determination.

He shook his head.

She snorted angrily. "Okay, then I will do it for you. Grace, Wayne, Kimball? Patrick here thinks that since you don't like him anyway you shouldn't be forced to attend his father's funeral."

Rigsby looked completely puzzled. "But we didn't even know him. How were we supposed to like him? And he attacked you, Jane. And besides, you didn't know or like my father either."

Cho raised his brows, Van Pelt shook her head, and Lisbon chuckled without humor. "Thank you, Wayne. That was incredibly dumb, but it conveyed the right message I'm sure."

The young man frowned. "Dumb? How was it dumb, boss?"

Teresa glared at him. "Sometimes I really don't know how you manage to be such a good detective while being that thick. I wasn't talking about you not liking Jane's father, I was talking about you not liking Jane, Rigs."

"But _that's_ dumb, boss. Of course we like Jane. I still don't get it." Wayne looked totally bewildered.

Cho snorted and cast him an incredulous look, but said, "Yes, I agree with Rigsby. Not about the not getting it part, though."

Grace on the other hand had walked over to Jane and stood before him, arms akimbo, eyes full of fire. "How can you think that, Jane? We're family. Of course we like you."

She was faced with a very flustered consultant, swaying back and forth on his feet, wringing his hands, and developing a sudden interest in the floor design. "It's okay not to like me. I know I'm not an easy person to be around. I don't blame you. I've caused a lot of trouble for you, all of you. Especially lately with that whole Vegas-fiasco," he replied in a quiet, subdued tone. He looked up with a rather open expression and added quietly, "I know you didn't help for my sake but for Lisbon, but for what it's worth, thanks anyway. I've never told you, but I'm really thankful for the support."

"And you call _me_ dumb, boss," Rigsby huffed. He'd finally caught on and was honestly shocked. He'd not had the slightest idea the other man was so insecure about his position in their little family.

Patrick had recovered his poise in the meantime. "Alright, enough with the maudlin sentimentalities. Weren't we supposed to go and have lunch?"

"What? No group-hug?" Cho deadpanned.

"No way, count me out," Jane replied with a slightly forced grin. He opened the door and showed them out with a waving gesture of his hand. "After you."

He lost his cool a bit when each of his teammates patted him on the arm or shoulder on their way out, apart from Lisbon who whispered a satisfied "Told you so!" in his ear instead.

* * *

**TBC**

**Sorry for the long wait, but my beta actually has a real life and has been very busy with other things lately. But rest assured that this story will be continued and completed.**

**Now I'm hoping very much to get the 100th review for this chapter. Thank you very much for all the kind words I've already received, and a special thanks to those who have reviewed as guests because I haven't had the chance to do it personally.**


	35. Chapter 35

The call informing Lisbon of Officer Keen's murder came at ten pm that same Friday night. They drove to the County Jail in total silence. The man had been poisoned according to the first preliminary report from the coroner. It looked like he'd imbibed a lethal dose of belladonna with a tea he'd gotten with his evening meal. Jane didn't know whether he should laugh or cry, but he nearly turned violent when Director Bertram appeared at the crime scene, intending to explain to the media and the upset public how it was possible that two prisoners had been killed in a Sacramento prison in a space of not even two weeks. Only Lisbon's calming hand on one of his arms and the firm hold Cho had of his other prevented him from punching the man in front of the assembled media.

"This is a real tragedy and I promise the people of Sacramento, that the CBI and all other law enforcement bodies in this state will do everything in their power to find the culprit and bring him to justice. I can assure you, this is a mere coincidence and doesn't reflect on the state of security in our prison system," Bertram explained in his usual neutral-concerned tone of voice in front of a dozen TV-cameras. Patrick nearly flipped but decided to try and beat the man at his own game. Teresa tried desperately to stop him, but he pushed her away and stepped from the shadows into the light from the cameras.

"Oh really? Then maybe you want to explain to the concerned public why the Director of the CBI, meaning you, Mr. Bertram, ordered a highly important prisoner and known confederate of California's most notorious serial killer to be transferred from a secure holding cell at CBI Headquarters today? A cell where he'd been kept for over a week without any harm coming his way, and it's only now, after your ordered transfer, that he was murdered," Jane spat at him, ignoring the fact that all those cameras had turned on him, though he was counting on it.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Jane, but it was a logical decision to make, considering the disproportionate costs these special security measures produced for the CBI. I'm not responsible for the budget cuts…" the director tried to defend his ruling.

"That's rubbish and you know it Bertram. There are at least ten journalists present here who can attest to the fact that the CBI got a generous donation just, what was it? Ah, yes, five days ago, which you promised to use solely, and I quote you here, 'to make this fine state an even safer place to live in.' Isn't that what you said? While shaking this very hand?" The consultant held up his right hand in a grand gesture. With a dramatic wave of it, which managed to convey his deep concern perfectly to the cameras, he added, "Personally, I'd believe that sharing a state with a serial killer doesn't exactly fit this description, Director Bertram." He spat the title out like a piece of rotten fruit.

Bertram looked extremely annoyed to Jane's perceptive eyes but kept it well hidden from the public. In a last attempt to defend his actions, he addressed the media again. "What our consultant Mr. Jane here has studiously avoided mentioning is the fact that he had been questioning the suspect for over a week without getting anything out of him. I didn't deem it very likely that he would do so any time soon, and the special security measures to keep a high profile prisoner safe for so long didn't seem appropriate seen from a cost benefit analysis. It would have been a waste of tax money."

Jane took a step closer and spoke in a dangerous, low voice, modulated perfectly to reach every microphone anyway. "Oh really, sir? You didn't deem it likely this weak-minded minion would crack any time soon, Bertram? On what grounds? Did you ever interrogate him? Oh, no. I forgot." He made a pause for dramatic effect. "You're just a politician juggling numbers." He let that sink in, glad to see that the journalists were eating out of his hand. "Well, it seems like Red John doesn't share your point of view, Director. Or why else would he have killed his disciple the moment he was out of our custody?" Outraged murmurs could be heard everywhere in the crowd of media folks and Patrick decided to throw a final punch. "Why don't you man up for once, Director Bertram, and admit to the good people of California that you screwed this one up good?"

Lisbon was groaning. This was a nightmare. Jane had just insulted their boss, repeatedly, in front of a whole bunch of journalists. This wasn't just a PR-scandal for the CBI, it was most likely the end of Jane's employment. Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby stood beside her in open-mouthed shock. "Did he really just say that to the director?" Wayne uttered. "I mean, not that I disagree with him but…" He shut up again at Lisbon's death glare.

At that point Bertram's assistant came up to Teresa together with Brenda Shettrick, the PR-manager. "Agent, can you please go and control your subordinate? He's causing a scene. The director…" Baker demanded.

"Frankly, I don't care. Do I have to remind you of our conversation this fine morning? I told you this was a mistake. Live with it," Lisbon huffed at the young man. Brenda cast her an imploring look. It convinced her to go and try to get Patrick out of the line of fire, to attempt some damage control. She motioned for Cho to accompany her and together they walked over to Jane, grabbed one arm each and pulled him aside. Fortunately the cameras were turned towards the flustered Bertram, so they could move their teammate out of the limelight without too many people noticing.

"Hey, what are you doing? I was just starting to have fun," Patrick whined.

"Have you lost your mind, Jane?" Lisbon hissed. "You've just ruined your career, I hope you know that."

"I don't think so, Lisbon. I'll bet you Bertram isn't Director of the CBI much longer. I'd give him until Tuesday," the consultant stated merrily without a concern.

"You don't know that. He has connections. You really think they'll hang him for this?" she asked angrily.

Jane chuckled. "How many of those connections are keen on being associated with a PR-scandal like this? The media's going to have a field day. Trust me."

Lisbon shook her head, her worries not alleviated in the least. They could hear the Head of the CBI explaining about Jane being in a difficult situation right now, mourning the death of his father, speaking out of a state of deep emotional distress. He asked the public to be lenient with the poor, distraught man who shouldn't even be here working such an important case. He apologized for the scene the grieving man had caused and invited them to re-evaluate what they'd heard tonight against this knowledge.

That's when Patrick couldn't stop himself from going back to the cameras. He acted so fast neither Cho nor Lisbon could do anything. "Then why am I working in my state, Director?" he inquired, stepping right in front of the man. "Do you really want to explain that one to the public? Or wouldn't it be better to count your losses now and admit your mistakes? Never nice to swallow one's pride, Mr. Bertram, but we all have to be humble sometimes, wouldn't you agree, sir?" He flashed a provoking smile.

"Mr. Jane, I've been trying to make allowances for your situation, but you're making it very hard right now. I warn you – you don't want to cross me any more," Bertram growled, really losing his cool for the first time that evening.

"That sounded like a threat to me. Did you just threaten me, a distraught, mourning man, Director?" Patrick inquired, wearing an indignant expression. The journalists were making scandalized sounds.

The head of the CBI made one last major effort and composed himself. He knew he couldn't win this one tonight and had to make a retreat with as much dignity as possible. "I apologize, if what I just said could be construed as a threat." He looked sorry and unsettled. "Of course I wouldn't threaten one of our best assets at the CBI. Our consultant Mr. Jane is a valued member of our agency and I have to take his accusations seriously." He took a deep breath, stealing himself for the next sentences. "Considering today's events, I might have to re-evaluate my initial analysis of the circumstances leading to the death of a prisoner. Maybe my decision to move Mr. Keen was indeed premature. I promise that I will look into this matter and my own involvement with an open mind. I thank you for your patience and cooperation. That will be all for now. Have a good night."

He stepped over to Jane and whispered so only he could hear it, "You're playing a dangerous game, Patrick. You don't know who you've just crossed. I admire your vigor though. Rest assured, we'll talk again soon."

* * *

Jane stood there for a while, brow furrowed, deep in thought. This last encounter with Bertram had been strange. Well, anyway, with the official declaration the director had just made there was no way he could fire him. Chances were much bigger Bertram would go down over this. That was all that counted right now he decided and went back to the team. Lisbon looked at him with a stony face and the others kept a pondering silence.

"Wow, aren't we a happy bunch tonight," he greeted them sarcastically. "Come on, guys. It's really not that bad. The worst part is that we lost Keen. But to be honest, I did expect this to happen the minute I knew he'd been transferred. So, no surprises. Shit happens and tomorrow is a new fine day."

Four bewildered gazes focused on him. "Have you all seen a ghost?" he teased.

"Jane? Have you lost your mind completely now?" Grace asked. "You've probably fired yourself and we lost our most important lead in the Red John case and you're talking about a new day? Who are you?"

"Ah, come on, grasshopper. It's not that dire. There's no way, Bertram'll be able to fire me – if he survives this, which I doubt." He grinned smugly. "And yes, we lost another lead. What can I say? Nearly ten years now – guess I'm getting used to it…" he tried to joke, but the other four knew him too well to buy his nonchalance and looked at him with worried eyes.

He sighed. "Okay, you've caught me. I am disappointed and mad as hell." He gazed up at them with an openness they weren't used to see from him and added, "But I'm also very, very tired. Right now I simply don't have the energy to get all frantic." When he saw their serious and compassionate faces he tried to lighten the mood, "Oh, by the way: You better not tell Red John I said that. He might be offended if I don't concentrate my whole being on him."

No one laughed.

"Everybody? It's getting really late and there's nothing we can do here anymore. We all know who's responsible for Keen's death, so I won't allow you to waste your weekend on this case," Lisbon said in her most commanding voice, getting everyone's attention. "We'll just wait for all the lab reports and go from there on Tuesday. Go home, get some sleep, enjoy the next two days. Good night," she completed her little pep talk.

They all nodded, went back to their cars and drove off each to their own.

* * *

"I'm not happy with you, Patrick," Lisbon told him as soon as they were alone in her car. "That was a very stupid move."

He shrugged. "I beg to differ. I think it was a brilliant move."

She cast him a stern sideways glance. "I don't think you're in any position to judge that right now. This was your ego acting up tonight, not your intellect. Nothing good will come from it."

He dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. "Ah, come on. Don't be a spoilsport, Lisbon. I had at least a bit of fun tonight," he said completely unfazed.

"I hate it when you act like this, Jane," Teresa replied.

"Like what?" he inquired

"Like an arrogant, self-righteous idiot," she explained angrily.

"Ouch! That wasn't very nice, Lisbon."

"It wasn't supposed to be," she answered dryly.

She cast another look at him, careful not to lose sight of the traffic. He seemed a bit more subdued. Good, she thought.

He didn't talk for several minutes, but then he cleared his throat and spoke again in a cold, almost derisive tone. "So what did you expect me to do, Agent Lisbon? Stand there and listen to that moronic, miserable piece of politician shit telling the public he'd done the right thing and sorry, but bad things happen?" Jane snorted.

"He's responsible for Keen's death. We both know that. And he screwed up with Lorelei as well. And you want me to behave like your nice little lapdog and suck it up? Sorry, but I'm not that kind of man," he hissed in anger.

"I risked everything I had at the time, my family, my integrity, and my sanity, as you so kindly pointed out just recently," he took a deep breath, "Only to end up with nothing, because that dimwit let himself be played like a sucker by the likes of Alexa Schultz." He growled. "And does he learn from his mistakes? No."

Jane was really agitated now. "You expect me to do nothing and let that idiot ruin all our hard work?" With a voice full of acid he added, "Sorry to inform you, Agent Lisbon, but I don't like it when you're acting this way. Like a spineless puppet to the powers that be."

"You're out of line, Jane. I won't tolerate you talking to me like that," Teresa replied, shocked and angered by his accusations.

He laughed without humor. "And what do you intend to do about it? Beat me up? Arrest me? Why are you allowed to tell me such things, but when I criticize you, you get all bossy?"

"Because I AM your boss, Jane," she spat at him.

He got very quiet at that. In a barely audible voice he said, "I see. So this is how you want to play it? When I tell you off, we're suddenly still on duty? How convenient." He paused a moment. "Where is the borderline, Agent Lisbon? That would be a handy thing to know. The door to your apartment? The living room? Kitchen? Or do you get to play the boss all the way up to the bedroom?" he mocked her.

His words had cut her like a knife and when he finally ended his rant and took a look at her he noticed just that. It cleared his head like a bucket full of ice. What the hell were they doing? What the hell was HE doing? Venting his frustration with Bertram and several other things on the last person who deserved it, that's what he'd done. Shame filled him and he slumped in his seat.

"I'm sorry, Teresa," he whispered. "That was totally uncalled for."

She didn't acknowledge his apology and gave him the silent treatment for the rest of their trip home, or so he assumed. In truth she was deep in thought, going over her own words and deeds. And she admitted to herself, that this whole mess wasn't solely his fault. She had been hard on him and playing the boss-card had been a particularly bad move. He didn't like the notion of answering to her even on a good day, and this one most certainly didn't classify as such.

And though she'd really disliked his attitude, telling him she hated it was not very smart. She was supposed to love him for who he was. That's what she claimed all the time – and felt as well. That certainly included him acting like an idiot once in a while. She knew him well enough after all. And hate hadn't been the right word to use by any means. It had just been a manner of speaking. But to him it must have sounded degrading, like a proof that she didn't accept him the way he was. As if there were conditions attached to being loved by her. Nothing could be further from the truth, because she did love him just the way he was, though he annoyed her at times and was insufferable at others.

And another thing troubled her as well: He still spoke of their home as her apartment. Legally speaking that was true of course. But it wasn't the way she felt anymore. He belonged there, she wanted him there with her, and the notion that it was her place put him in a position of constant disadvantage. Hell, she would bet that he was contemplating right at this very moment whether he should offer to spend the night elsewhere so she would have her home to herself after their fight.

As if on cue, the moment they had reached the parking lot and left the car he apologized again and told her he'd give her some space and spend the night at the CBI.

"No, Patrick. Do you want to spend the night there? Honestly?" she asked carefully.

He shrugged and looked lost. "I wouldn't mind. I mean, I'd understand if you didn't want me at your place. It's no big deal," he answered sheepishly.

She took a hold of his hand. "That's not what I asked, imp. Where would you choose to spend the night, if it was all up to you?"

"In your arms," he said quietly.

"Sounds like a plan," she stated with a small smile. "Come on in. I could really do with a cup of tea right now."

She pulled him along, and he followed without resistance, completely baffled. "Aren't you mad at me?" he inquired carefully.

"Maybe a little. But we both lost our tempers. What did you expect? We're both stubborn and headstrong. No reason to ban you from our home."

He still looked at her in wonder when they'd entered the apartment, taken off their shoes and proceeded to the kitchen, where Teresa filled the kettle and found two mugs. "Cat got your tongue, Jane?" she teased him.

"Something like that," he replied. He was leaning against the counter with his elbows resting on the top watching her intently. "Though it's more like a lioness, I'd say."

She smiled at him whimsically. "Not bad. I rendered the great Mr. Jane relatively speechless for once." Then she winked and added, "Though I prefer to do other things with your tongue…"

"Oh really?" He looked very interested. "Things like….?"

She blushed a little and said neutrally, "Oh, you know. This and that…"

He came around the counter and pulled her close. "Something like this, maybe?" he asked seductively, as he lowered his head and kissed her, his tongue claiming her mouth with passion.

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: Yeah! The last chapter was a real milestone for this fic in many ways: over 100 reviews, over 100 000 words. If I was into statistics, I would point out that I got about one review per 1000 words, which would mean I'm in for about three reviews for this new chapter********... ;-)**. But who's into statistics anyway? I write because I enjoy doing so and I hope you do so while reading as well. But I can't deny that getting feedback is a very nice thing and an additional motivation. And as I'm not into statistics I wouldn't complain about four or more reviews either ;-)


	36. Chapter 36

**Warning: Sexual content**

* * *

They were naked in a matter of seconds. With all their pent-up emotions running wild their merging was quick, intense and powerful. He'd hoisted her up on the counter, guided her legs up so they were resting on his shoulders and had plunged into her without much of a preamble.

He barely managed to groan, "Condom?" She whispered a hoarse, "Second drawer," in response and indicated the floor unit underneath her. He grabbed and donned the object in a rush.

They were both very vocal, crying out their lust and earlier frustrations during the act, and their release was as much a sexual one as it was one borne by exasperation.

As forceful and emotive as their encounter had been, the kisses and caresses he bestowed on her afterwards were just as tender while she was still lying on the counter top with him bent over her. "I love you, Teresa," he whispered huskily.

"I love you too, Patrick, just the way you are," she replied warmly, pulling his head down for another deep kiss. "But now get me down from this torture device. It's killing my back."

He smiled warmly. "Sure thing." Carefully he pulled her first into a sitting position and lifted her down after another deep kiss. "Not twenty anymore, are we?" he teased, when she was standing again, right before him, straightening her back with a grimace.

"Well, if you wanted some young chick, Jane, I'm not your best choice," she bantered, moving her forefinger lightly down his chest.

He pretended to scrutinize her from top to toe, and finally grasped her butt with his hands giving both cheeks a gentle squeeze as if evaluating them. "Oh, I don't know. You look and feel still pretty crisp to me. I think I'll keep you a while longer yet."

"How mighty nice of you. And how much longer will that be? Just so I have an approximate expiration date," she asked jokingly.

He feigned to think about it. "Well, with such things it's empirically tricky to know for certain, even for a clever guy like me, but I'd hope for something like around about forty years, maybe?" he finally said. And though his voice had been playful, his eyes conveyed his seriousness.

"Sounds good to me," she replied a bit hoarsely, touched by his words. "What about that tea now? What kind do you want?" she added to cover up her emotions.

"Surprise me," he answered with a warm smile.

She cast him an incredulous look, "As if I ever could… You probably already know exactly, what I'm in the mood for, even though I'm actually not sure myself," she said with a bit of annoyance in her tone.

"Nah, I don't feel like playing mind games right now. I've no opinion whatsoever on the subject," he told her with conviction.

She looked a bit skeptical, but went over to the cupboard holding their assortment of teas and stood in front of it screening it from his view. There were so many different types to choose from and many which sounded delicious. Finally she settled on a flavor, she'd only had once but enjoyed greatly.

"Green tea with cranberries," he stated from the other side of the room the moment she'd made her pick, face smug.

She growled angrily and nearly put the package back just to spite him. "You are awfully annoying, Jane, and I have not the foggiest idea how the hell you're doing this," she huffed.

"Reading your mind of course, my dear," he replied with a smirk. "Remember? You're an open book, Lisbon."

He walked over to her, took the pack from her hands and continued to prepare their tea. She came up behind him and put her arms around his chest stroking it and rested her cheek against his back. "Miserable show-off," she said lovingly.

He turned his head, grinned, and replied, "I love you too, Teresa." His attention refocused on the boiling water, which he poured into the mugs and put the kettle down again. "Shall we take the tea upstairs to the bedroom or do you want to retire to the living room for a while?"

"I know it's late, but I feel like spending a bit more time outside of bed."

* * *

She released him and bent down to retrieve her panties and t-shirt from where they had landed during their earlier rather hectic stripping. She put both garments on, while Patrick carried their mugs to the couch. She found his shorts for him as well – another pair she wouldn't mind throwing out, because they weren't in the best of states to put it mildly – and followed him.

She held the offending piece of clothing out to him and wrinkled her nose. "Patrick, really. We need to do something about your wardrobe. These things have definitely a lot more holes than shorts are supposed to have."

He looked very sheepish and took the pair from her. "Not very sexy, I admit."

She rolled her eyes. "If it was only that… Say, what do you think your wife would have done with those?"

"Thrown them on my head probably," he replied with a fond grin.

They sat down on the couch close to each other, Patrick foregoing to redress, and took their respective mugs.

"Expect to be bombarded with quite a few disgusting shorts and socks in the near future then," she told him with a wink. "Or you could do us both a favor and remedy the situation."

"Alright, alright, I got it. I'll pick something up tomorrow. I'm meeting Elisa in the mall anyway for some shopping and organizing for the funeral and I have an appointment at the hairdresser's as well," he told her looking a bit embarrassed. "Do you need anything?"

She pondered his question a moment. "Maybe. I could probably do with a new white blouse," she said with a thoughtful look. "My best one is a bit discolored due to a washing accident…" she muttered a moment later.

Patrick chuckled. "Happens to the best of us, Teresa. And you can join us if you like. I'm sure Elisa would be delighted to have another woman to conspire with. She doesn't have much confidence in men helping her shop. Jonathan seems to be a disaster in that area."

"What about you, Patrick? Are you the impatient, edgy husband or the useful advisor type of guy?" she inquired with amusement.

"Best consultant ever – in any kind of situation of course." He grinned.

She cast him a doubtful look.

"No, really. Angie always insisted I tag along. Obviously I have a gift for spotting the best garments. And I assure you that taught me patience… She used to force me into spending whole days clothes shopping with a bunch of her friends. I should probably have gotten some kind of medal for it." His face showed an indulgent smile and a far-away look. "Her best friend Betty actually used to joke that I deserved the 'Husband-Of-The-Year-Award'." He chuckled. "But Angie of course only replied that it was the least I could do considering what she had to put up with." His eyes turned a bit sad at that. "Turns out she was more than right."

Teresa took his hand into hers, intertwined their fingers and pulled them up to her mouth, kissing the back of his hand gently. She lowered them down into her lap afterwards and covered his with her other hand. "I'm sure she didn't mind putting up with you most of the time," she told him quietly. "She knew she was lucky to have you. I am."

He turned his head in her direction and their eyes met. "Thank you, Teresa," he said, voice raw with emotion. "I… thanks."

"You're very welcome, Patrick," she answered warmly.

Her lover cleared his throat before he started to speak. "She would have liked you," he confided in her. "I'm sure you could've been good friends. You have a similar kind of humor – among other things."

"Or we might have scratched out each other's eyes over you," Teresa countered, trying to lighten the mood.

Catching on he chuckled. "Poor Angie. She wouldn't have stood a chance against badass cop Teresa. I'd have liked it to be a mud-wrestling match. That would have been a sight for sore eyes: the two most beautiful women in the world, covered in nothing but mud, fighting over me…"

They both laughed at the picture forming in their minds, though Patrick's merriment still held a touch of sadness. She covered his mouth with hers and gave him a sweet, loving kiss. "Let's go to bed, Patrick. It's late, after one already."

He nodded and they retired for the night.

* * *

Teresa awoke alone in her bed – something she had been used to for years, but hated now that someone **was** supposed to share it with her. In place of her lover, she found a note in his handwriting:

'Had to leave for the hairdresser's. Breakfast is in the oven. Meeting Elisa at noon in the Arden Fair Mall. Call me for further info. Love, P.'

He'd even doodled a little comic like figure with curly hair blowing a kiss from a heart shaped mouth in the lower right corner of the page, which made her snicker. He could protest it as much as he wanted, but he was a corny person. Not that she would complain, she found it very endearing after all…

She looked at her alarm clock and noted that it was already almost 10 am. She got up and ready for the day, and found her breakfast – French toast! she loved his French toast – in the oven as promised and devoured it. At about 11 am she got out her cell phone and called him while getting ready to leave.

"Hi Lisbon," he greeted her in his usual manner.

"Hey Jane," she answered. "Where are you?"

"Just entered the mall. Figured I could get my own shopping out of the way before I meet you two ladies. You up and about?"

"Yeah, just finished breakfast. Thanks for the toast. It was delicious."

He couldn't see her happy smile, but he was pretty sure he actually heard it. "You're welcome, love. Any preferences regarding my underwear?" he asked with a suggestive undertone.

"I'm sure anything would be better than the status quo, Jane. But you could start with the socks and I'll catch up with you in half an hour and help you pick something suitable," she teased him, grabbing her purse, keys, and jacket.

He chuckled. "Okay. I'm looking forward to it."

She groaned. "What have I just gotten myself into? You expecting to enjoy yourself is a sure sign for disaster in my experience… Maybe we should wait until we meet your grandma. I'm sure it would be fun to have HER pick out briefs for you…" She had left the apartment and was on her way to her car.

He chuckled again. "You've really scary ideas sometimes, Teresa. But somehow I doubt it that you want us all to die from embarrassment."

"Oh, Elisa would definitely die from shock and you from embarrassment if I showed her what you're normally wearing," she retorted, unlocking her car and getting in.

"My dear Teresa, I would appreciate it greatly if you could refrain from discussing any aspect of my underwear with my grandmother. Actually, I would be eternally grateful even," he replied merrily, obviously amused. "You better hurry up, by the way. I'm entering a men's wear store as we speak."

"I'm already in my car. ETA in fifteen minutes. I'll call you again, when I'm there, Patrick. Don't forget: only socks until I arrive." She started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

"Got it, Teresa: You really want to be present when I buy my underwear. Love you." He hung up without waiting for her reply.

* * *

When Lisbon arrived at the entrance to the shop Patrick had named in a text message three minutes ago, she met Elisa just outside watching the happenings inside. "Oh hey, Elisa. You're here already? I thought you were supposed to meet us in forty minutes," she greeted the old woman.

"Ah, Teresa dear." She pulled the younger woman into a hug. "I arrived a bit early and wanted to look around for a while, but then I happened upon this scene and had to stay. Have been standing here for ten minutes already and loved every second of it. You absolutely have to see this. Come on, come on!" She grabbed Lisbon's arm and pulled her to her side, so they could see and hear what went on in the shop without being visible to anyone inside. "It's a bit embarrassing for a lady to see, just how little dignity some women have, but the show's great anyway," Patrick's grandmother declared with a smirk very reminiscent of her grandson's.

Inside the shop Teresa could see five saleswomen aged between their mid-twenties to mid-fifties gallivanting around one Patrick Jane, giggling and presenting him with various pieces of clothing, socks being the most prominent items. The blond man seemed to enjoy himself splendidly, milking the situation for all it was worth, shooing them around asking for more and more outrageous materials with a charming smile and alluring voice. "Oh Claire dear, are those really velvet socks? They look absolutely sinful. I'm sure they'll provide the utmost pleasure…. for my feet," Elisa and Teresa heard him purr. "What would you say, Beth? Are those really the most comfortable or should I rather go for silk?" he addressed another of the assistants, hissing the 's' in silk seductively.

The woman in question stared at him with dreamy eyes, simpered and stammered, "Silk's always a safe choice, sir."

"Ah, call me Patrick. No need to be so formal, dear. But Deborah here seemed to believe microfiber is best. Isn't that supposed to be even smoother than silk?" Bending down a bit and motioning for them to come closer – which they did at once - as if he wanted to share some secret with them he added in a low voice, "I really love pliant and supple things, ladies."

The two spectators couldn't stay calm anymore. "And this has really been going on for more than ten minutes?" Teresa pressed out between fits of laughter. Elisa only managed to nod, a few tears of mirth running down her wizened cheeks. She tried to compose herself a bit but failed.

Their outburst had called at least Patrick's attention to their presence. The besotted females in the shop on the other hand were completely oblivious to anything but their lovely customer. He grinned deviously in the direction of the entrance and waved them over to where he was standing merrily. "Oh, my two favorite girls! Do come in. I want you to meet Gina, Beth, Claire, Deborah, and Amanda. They've been very forthcoming."

His words definitely broke the spell and the five female shop assistants cast collective death glares at the two newcomers, mostly at Teresa – obviously the bigger competition – but even at the old lady, who registered this with smug amusement and satisfaction. The glares became even darker when Patrick first greeted his grandmother with a peck on each cheek and than pulled his lover into a full-out kiss, which clearly couldn't be misconstrued as a mere gesture of friendship.

"They have the most amazing assortment of socks here," Patrick explained afterwards, pretending to be completely oblivious to the temperature drop inside the shop. "Did you know, that they make socks from velvet, silk, and microfiber these days, my dear?" he addressed Teresa. He shook his head in a dramatic way. "One really wonders what happened to good, old cotton…"

"We do have cotton socks, sir," the woman, whose nametag identified her as Amanda, hurriedly supplied. "I could get some pairs for you. We have many different colors and patterns."

Teresa, who'd grown a bit tired of the game and felt like showing her possessive side, chimed in at this point, "Why don't you just point us in the right direction? I'm sure, we'll be perfectly capable of picking out some simple cotton socks without further assistance, thank you."

Lisbon noticed with great satisfaction that she'd just made some friends for life. Patrick grinned like a loon and Elisa snickered. "Ah! I haven't had that much fun in ages," she exclaimed happily. "Thank you for the great entertainment, ladies," she told the sales women. "Now, where to?" she asked with a questioning look.

One of the vendors pointed her finger to the back of the shop with a dour expression. That's when Patrick dug deep into the pockets of his suit jacket and produced five pairs of cotton socks, three black and two blue, and a receipt. "Already got what I came for twenty minutes ago," he explained. "Your friendly colleague, Stuart was his name I think, attended to me. Went on his lunch break right afterwards." He cast a charming smile at the five speechless assistants. "It was lovely chatting with you about all those delightful materials, ladies. Thank you so much for your time and effort. Have a nice day."

* * *

He stowed the socks away again, linked arms with both Elisa and Teresa, and they left the store together. Once outside Lisbon slapped his arm lightly. "Geez, that was mean, imp! Even I didn't see that last part coming."

Patrick only chuckled. "I swear I didn't plan this. They conquered me on my way out. What was I supposed to do? You have to always be nice to the ladies, right?" he replied with an innocent expression that didn't fool either of the women in his company.

His grandmother couldn't stop herself from ruffling his newly cut, especially nice looking, short curls. "You are really something else, Patrick," she said warmly. "Wait 'til I tell your grandfather about this. He'll…"

The blond man interrupted her nervously, "No, please. Don't tell him, ma'am," he pleaded, a glint of fear visible in his eyes for those who knew him well. "I'm sorry. It was just a stupid, a tasteless joke. I know I shouldn't have done it." He looked down at his feet like a chastised child.

Elisa decided to ignore his reaction though his behavior worried her. Her grandson obviously seemed afraid of the male head of the Jane family and she didn't like the thought.

Every time they met he seemed to try to behave perfectly. He was extremely polite, attentive, reserved, and well spoken. He avoided any kind of topic that could appear the least bit offensive, didn't divulge anything personal, and treated them with the utmost respect.

Today she'd finally seen another glint of his true nature, his mischievousness and playfulness, and she'd loved it. He was a lot like herself. Of course it had been a bit mean to play those women like that, but in her book it was their own fault. Those vultures had practically salivated over her grandson after all. Why shouldn't he take advantage of it and have some harmless fun?

Watching him in that shop had given her more information about him than any of their previous meetings. She'd already assumed that he was a brilliant observer and manipulator because Teresa had introduced him as a mentalist, but during their short time together he'd only used his abilities to try and please them. He'd projected an image of himself perfectly molded to give them what he thought they wanted to have: a highly educated, mannerly, well-behaved, straightforward man.

The only time she was sure she'd seen a bit of his real personality had been at the opera. Her grandson obviously loved music and felt it deeply. He'd even shed some tears during the heartrending aria of the prima donna. The heroine had been perfectly cast with a beautiful voice and when she'd mourned the loss of her husband, Patrick had been truly affected. Elisa had watched him carefully from the corner of her eye and that's the only reason she'd seen it.

Afterwards, he'd been perfectly composed and had talked about the performance with detached expertise. He'd been very careful to appear neither ignorant nor overly knowledgeable, but she hadn't been fooled. Her grandson knew quite a bit about music and opera, a lot more than he'd let on, probably because he didn't want to risk offending her considering she was a musician. She reminded herself that she wanted to ask him if he himself played an instrument at a later date.

Now however she had to deal with the situation at hand and deemed it best to just continue with her original sentence. "Your grandfather will laugh his head off when I tell him, I'm sure. It was absolutely hilarious, Patrick. Those women were a complete disgrace to every self-respecting female. I hope that was a lecture they won't soon forget. Jonathan will be devastated that he missed out on this show."

The blond man looked up at her and when she gave him a reassuring nod, he relaxed visibly.

* * *

**TBC**

**Your comments are still welcome and appreciated, so feel free to send me a line.**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: For all of you out there who like Jane's grandparents - here's another one featuring Elisa (the rest of the shopping trip), and more family business is coming up in the following chapters. **

**No warnings.**

* * *

They started their shopping for real after that, and true to his word, Patrick turned out to be the perfect shopping guide. Like Teresa had assumed, he showed impeccable taste and had an eye for the kind of styles and colors most suitable for the women in his company. Accordingly Lisbon ended up buying three new tops and two pairs of pants instead of one blouse and even Elisa, who'd originally planned to only purchase something suitable for the funeral, went on a real shopping spree.

Then the two women teamed up and persuaded Patrick to buy some casual clothes for himself. To Teresa's utter delight they'd been able to force him into at least a dozen jeans under their critical and appreciative eyes – at least where the younger woman was concerned, though the old lady had made some rather juicy comments as well. He bought the pair both women agreed on, and got a hoodie and a sweater too. At Teresa's pointed look he also grabbed some simple t-shirts in several colors.

* * *

The three had a late lunch at the mall and chatted lightly until Elisa said, "Saw you on the news this morning by the way, Patrick. Seems like you nailed the director of the CBI to the cross last night."

The consultant cast an uncomfortable look in Teresa's direction before he answered carefully, "I didn't nail him. He did that all by himself. I might however have provided the hammer."

"But was that smart, dear? Isn't he an important man here in town?" his grandmother inquired.

"Well, the jury is still out on that one. Lisbon thinks I made a big mistake, which will probably cost me my job. I on the other hand am convinced Bertram won't survive this. How was the media's opinion?" Patrick asked.

The old lady perceived the situation at once. There'd obviously been some kind of fight between her grandson and his girlfriend about the matter, so she decided to tread carefully. "Right now it seems like the public isn't very happy with that man – unappealing guy by the way. A lot of questions are being asked too about previous decisions he's made," she provided diplomatically.

Teresa chimed in at that point, "No need to step gently, Elisa. Patrick and I agree to disagree on the subject, don't we?" Her smile appeared a bit forced when she looked at her lover. "So just give us your honest impression."

Mrs. Jane chuckled. "Alright, my dear. In plain words: At the moment they love our Patrick here and hate that politician. They showed a clip from some press conference last week – why didn't you tell us about that, Patrick? – where Bertram promised to use that donation to enhance public security, and it didn't go over well with the press, that he lost the most important witness in such a high profile case." She took a breath and grabbed her grandson's hand gently and squeezed it before she went on, "I'm afraid, they divulged the circumstances of Alexander's murder to the public as well. Got quite a bit of extra sympathy for you, but I'm sure you'd have preferred that particular information to stay hidden."

Patrick had blanched at that. "Damn. I hope, we won't be run over by the media on Monday."

"Oh we will." Teresa sighed. "I hope you're ready to deal with that, Patrick."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll do what I have to do. And even if you feel like saying 'I told you so,' I'm still convinced it was the right decision to call Bertram out on his mistakes. He'll go down over this – mark my words." Patrick spoke with conviction, but tried his best not to gloat in any way. Elaborating on his arguments, he added, "His only possible way out would be to try and discredit me. But he can't do that, because whatever he says about me would automatically discredit him as well, since he either condoned my actions or openly supported them at the time. Furthermore, I have public opinion and sympathy on my side. And considering a certain contract, I have some additional leverage over him, wouldn't you agree?"

"Maybe you're right," Lisbon conceded. "I'm still not fully convinced, but you present a strong case – I can admit that much. And I know you have the mind of a strategist – I'm just not sure you're really using it in this instance because this is personal." She cast him a serious look. "But I'll rest my case for the time being. I certainly don't want to fight about this with you anymore. And Patrick? I hope you know that I'll have your back, even if I don't fully agree with your methods."

He smiled warmly at her. "You have no idea how much I appreciate that. You've always had my back ever since we met, and I'm aware of the fact that I not only made it exceedingly difficult for you at times but that there were many occasions where you did so against your better judgment. Thank you, Teresa. It means a lot to me." He bent over to her and kissed her.

* * *

"Well, you two lovebirds, I'm happy you seem to have found some middle ground. And I'll make sure to use an extra five minutes on my hair on Monday for the cameras," Elisa said slightly amused. But then she turned serious. "Can't say I'm that happy about this whole affair turning into a public event, but it can't be helped I guess. But in light of this you might want to rethink your position about the funeral, Patrick. I know you don't want to say anything but couldn't that be used against you?"

The blond man pondered the question for a moment before he shook his head and answered, "What would I possibly say? I could either tell some outrageous lies about my deep sorrow at the loss of my beloved father, which I could probably pull off but really don't want to do. Or I could stay closer to the truth and risk losing the public's sympathies."

He paused to give the two women the chance to let it sink in, before he started with his real argument. "Not speaking at all on the other hand gives the press and hence the public the opportunity to construe their own perceptions of the truth without me lying in any way. They could either interpret it as me being too distraught to speak or even cope with yet another Red John tragedy in my life, or they could construe it in many different ways closer to the actual truth. Why should I anticipate their decision on the matter?"

After a short moment of contemplation his grandmother said, "That's sound reasoning and I most certainly don't want you to feel pressured into speaking and lying. It will be a short and simple service anyway. Jonathan has agreed to say a few words, I'll play Alexander's favorite lullaby on the violin with my granddaughter Mary accompanying me at the piano, and that'll be it." She patted Patrick's hand.

"Now on to another, though slightly related matter: Matt, his wife Emma, and your cousins Mary and Paul will come to Sacramento tomorrow afternoon. We would like to go out for a family dinner. Are you two free to join us?"

"I don't know," her grandson answered hesitantly.

"We certainly don't have any prior engagements, Patrick. Wouldn't it be nice if your first meeting with your cousins wasn't at a funeral?" Teresa suggested gently.

He sighed heavily. "It's just that I'm not sure about meeting Matthew again. I mean, last time things got a bit out of hand and…", he looked down at his empty plate. "He doesn't like me very much and maybe there'll be another skirmish or something. Not so much chance for that to happen during a funeral…"

"I thought you'd talked, Patrick? Didn't he call you?" Elisa inquired with a puzzled expression.

"Oh yes, he called me. But I have no illusions about him liking me, Elisa. He apologized and all that, and it's alright, really. But why would he suddenly like me? His opinion of me is based on facts that still exist after all. I don't hold that against him, honestly." He pleaded with his eyes for her to believe him. "It's just that you can't force people into liking others. And I obviously rub him the wrong way. So I doubt that he wants his children to meet someone like me."

His grandmother glared at him. "Someone like you? What's that supposed to mean, Patrick? Someone strong, smart, and kind? Or someone hurt, vulnerable, and insecure?"

He seemed very embarrassed at her words and muttered, "More like someone ruthless, cruel, and manipulative."

Elisa rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, dear. Not that same old hogwash once again. You're none of those things – or well, I'll grant you the manipulative part, but who cares? And from now on I never want to hear this nonsense again, son. Are we clear on that?" She said the last part in a tone that didn't leave any room for noncompliance.

* * *

Teresa watched the scene and was a bit disappointed she couldn't read her lover well enough to pin down exactly whether he was really intimidated by the strong old lady or only humoring her, but at least he agreed to refrain from repeating those offending words about himself. She decided that it might actually be a bit of both. What she was certain about however was that he was slightly afraid of his grandfather.

Experience had taught her, that as a rule Patrick could relate much better to women than men. This held especially true for persons in a position of power. Though he always undermined any authority figure who dared to bask in their own glory – be they male or female – he worked much more efficiently and respectfully around women. Come to think of it, she herself was actually the best example for it. Madeleine Hightower was another one, whereas Minelli was the only man in a high up position she could remember ever being able to gain Patrick's honest respect – and it had been a hard earned one.

She was no therapist of course but it seemed pretty obvious that her consultant had issues related to his father, the man who'd held absolute power over him as a child and had abused that position in the worst possible ways. She suspected that his constant need to challenge male authority figures derived from this, and provoking them was Patrick's way of staying in a position of power to avoid being the helpless child ever again. She knew this was probably a very simplified description, but she found it rather convincing.

The problem with Jonathan Jane was that Patrick actually wanted the other man's approval and acceptance. Because of that he couldn't challenge his male authority, which automatically left him at a disadvantage - hence the fear he felt. She decided to share her thoughts on the matter with Patrick. Maybe knowing about his defense mechanisms would help him overcome them.

She knew there were other aspects involved as well. His fear of rejection played a major role. But those things were connected: his father's constant rejection had taught him that he wasn't good enough to be loved, or that love came at a high price with a lot of strings attached to make him worthy of it.

Once in his life he'd experienced being accepted unconditionally – when he'd met his wife. That much Teresa had learnt from her peek into his application video during the Erica Flynn case. What she'd seen had touched her deeply back then. To be honest, a few times after she'd watched that scene she'd lain awake in bed at night and allowed herself the secret thought, 'You can have that again. I'm here and I love you in spite of your faults'.

In his mind, he'd killed the only woman ever able to love him like that and that had re-enforced the teachings of his childhood and proved in hindsight that he hadn't been worthy of that kind of love in the first place.

She was only now after nearly ten years of him living with that conviction, slowly succeeding in showing him otherwise, proving that there was another woman who loved him like that, and his friends and family as well. The fact that they had had a rather big quarrel the day before without him automatically thinking she'd immediately break up with him was a very good sign in her book, even though he'd thought she'd ban him from home. Their home… yet another thing that needed to be addressed…

* * *

Teresa had been so deep in thought she'd missed the rest of the conversation between grandma and grandson Jane. She came out of her stupor to Patrick saying, "All right, a family Sunday dinner it will be. Ah, Lisbon, welcome back! You have a date tomorrow evening. Handsome guy and his pesky family. You game?"

Elisa cast him an indulgent look and chuckled. "Well you two. I've old bones and you have definitely worn me out with all that shopping. I'll take my leave now."

Patrick offered to carry her purchases to her car and Teresa told him where to meet her again afterwards.

Only when Elisa had left did the two lovers pick out Patrick's underwear. Teresa had already inspected the shop she'd chosen for this important endeavor. When he joined her there, she knew exactly what she wanted him to have. So she insisted on at least six pairs of silk boxers and since he couldn't resist her suggestive look when pointing them out to him, he just shrugged and complied. She got on her toes with a mischievous glint in her eyes and purred in his ear, "That's just such a sinful material, dear. I'm sure, they'll provide the utmost pleasure… down there."

He laughed heartily. "Well played, Lisbon. I'm proud of you. Shall we go home and test the validity of your claim?"

"Maybe later," she answered with a blasé smile and a noncommittal wave of her hand.

He pecked her on the lips and said, "You're really getting good at this. But there's the slight problem of those dilated pupils you got when thinking of me in those shorts - dead give-away. You would still have fooled just about anyone else but me of course." His expression was awfully smug and arrogant and earned him the expected slap on his arm.

They picked up a few other necessities and went home afterwards.

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are almost like silk boxers - they provide the utmost pleasure... in my heart... ;-)**


	38. Chapter 38

**More Jane family time ahead...**

* * *

Sunday afternoon found Lisbon and Jane in front of the closet after nearly 24 hours without the need for real clothes. They'd essentially spent it in the nude or comfy leisure wear (silk boxer shorts…) lounging around at home. Now however Teresa tried everything in her power to coax her lover into wearing something other than one of his usual three-piece-suits, but it seemed to be a lost cause. He had come out of the bathroom already dressed in one of them and he didn't seem the least bit willing to change out of it again. She only wore panties and a bra so far and was making her pick right now.

"Jane, we are going to a simple pizzeria with your relatives and not to some gourmet Mecca with the governor. You're overdressed," she tried to reason with him, putting on a pair of black jeans herself.

He wore a stubborn expression. "What's wrong with it? I always look like that and I haven't been thrown out of anywhere so far." His face turned a bit sheepish before he added, " Well, at least not because of my outfit."

"There's nothing wrong with it. I do like your dandy-style." She caressed his cheek and smiled. "And it suits you. It's just, well… You're essentially wearing a mask when you go out like this and I don't think you should around family. The point is that you're always wearing those suits, you never vary it. It's not healthy." She got out an emerald green long sleeved top with a patterned v-neck for herself.

"So what if I hide behind it?" he retorted defensively, though his eyes bore an admiring look while she pulled the top over her head. "I feel safer this way and it's not just a guise. I do happen to like to dress like that. And I'm not gonna meet that Matthew-guy looking like a slob. He doesn't need more ammunition against me. He's a lawyer. I'm sure he won't exactly go out in sweatpants either. And I most certainly don't want to embarrass myself in front of Elisa and Jonathan."

She snickered. "Well, from what I remember, Elisa liked you very much in jeans yesterday. I recall her mentioning quite a few flattering things about the special anatomical assets of the male members of the Jane family. Seems like you all have especially nice butts in jeans…"

Patrick groaned and blushed a little. "I really didn't need to know that, Lisbon."

"Yes, you did. Now you know she won't mind seeing your delectable behind in jeans again tonight." She laughed at his horrified face. "But seriously, Patrick, you should stop trying to please them so much. I'm certain they would prefer you to be yourself around them, not a perfectly adapted yes-man. It's so unlike you to bend over backwards like that."

She locked eyes with him and her tone turned very dedicated. "Are you really so afraid they would outright reject your true self? And do you want to honestly go on like that forever just so they accept you? Is that the price you're willing to pay for the chance to have a family? People you can't ever get truly close to because you're hiding yourself from them? People who only like a warped, absurd version of you?"

She cast him a pleading look. "Patrick, please believe me: you ARE loveable just the way you are. Your grandmother adores you. She practically gleamed with happiness when she watched your little show in that shop yesterday. She loves your mischievous side. I'm sure she's a lot like you herself and she's proud of you."

He looked a bit uncertain. "Maybe you're right about Elisa. But what about Jonathan and Matthew? I just want to make sure they see that I'm not like my father, Teresa."

She was surprised by his openness and honesty and decided to see how far it went. Taking his face between her hands, she asked tentatively, "Love, are you afraid of them?"

He cringed but still tried to reject the notion at once. "Of course not. Why would I be? What gave you this absurd idea? Why would I be afraid? That's ridiculous."

"The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks," she countered gently. She pulled him down into a kiss. "Patrick, it's alright to admit it."

He pulled away from her. "It's just not true, Lisbon. Why would you even think something like that?" he asked with agitation.

"Because they're men and you want their approval, with which you automatically grant them power over you. And you don't like men to be in a position of power over you because you're afraid they might abuse it," she explained carefully.

Patrick looked at her in complete astonishment. "I… That's…" He stopped again and sank down onto the bed behind him, his expression reminding Teresa of a deer caught in the headlights.

She sat down beside him, took hold of his hand, and started to recount her thoughts on the matter from the day before. He listened attentively, his eyes growing wider and wider. She concluded by saying, "So to rectify your earlier statement: I think you don't want to prove to them that you're not your father. On the contrary, you are afraid THEY might turn out to be like your father. At least that's how I see it. And since your own father didn't accept you the way you are, you don't want to risk showing them too much of your true self and getting the same reaction once again."

He stared at her and was speechless for a few minutes, the thought process in his head almost visible on his face for once. Then he cleared his throat and said wonderingly, "You're a very smart woman, Teresa. How did you figure that one out? I'd never… I mean, this explanation didn't even cross my mind, but it makes perfect sense. Since when have you turned into such a counselor?"

One of his hands took a gentle hold of her chin and turned her head so he could kiss her passionately. "This really clears up quite a few things in my head. I'm honestly amazed, my dear. It shows just how well you know me. Thanks."

She blushed a bit at his compliments. "You are just too close to the matter or you'd have been the first one to figure it out, Patrick. I've seen you around male authority figures quite a few times during the last nine years. It was obvious to me even without knowing about your father that you had some issues with men who hold power. I just had to add the new knowledge I have to the picture."

He grinned at her. "You're really sweet, love. Too modest to take a well-deserved compliment, are you?" With a chuckle he added, "You might not be the tallest person but you shouldn't sell yourself short."

She slapped his shoulder lightly. "That was an awful pun, Jane, even by your standards."

He grinned happily. "I think it was great. Only shows you either don't have a sense of humor at all, Lisbon, or it's unfortunately just in proportion with the rest of you…"

He got another slap for his efforts and a death glare as well. "You should count yourself lucky I don't beat up defenseless civilians or you wouldn't laugh at that."

"I absolutely love that angry face on you, it's just too cute," he teased her.

She cuffed his ear this time and warned him, "Be careful, imp, or I'll make an exception for once."

He feigned a fearful expression and put his arms above his head. "Alright big, mean cop lady. I surrender. Do with me as you please."

"I would but we don't have the time I would need to mete out the punishment you deserve. So I'll save that for later. For now, how about a change of outfit?" she asked cautiously.

Patrick turned serious again at her request and replied quietly, "It's not that I don't understand your point, but just because I realize the nature of my feelings doesn't change them automatically. And besides this outfit is an important part of the real me too. So I would really like to go like this today. I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to apologize, Patrick. If you need your guise or whatever it is to you, I can accept that and I won't think any less of you for it. Maybe one day soon you'll be comfortable enough to leave the house wearing something else for once, but as I happen to like your look, I don't have a problem with it." She caressed his cheek and pecked him on the nose. "Okay, let's get a move on."

"I can drive if you want, so you can have some wine. I won't drink anything anyway," he suggested while they were walking downstairs.

Bending down to put on her shoes, she scolded him, "Patrick, come on. They won't take you to be an alcoholic just because you have a glass of wine with your food."

He shook his head while finishing tying his own shoes. "You're getting exceedingly too smart for your own good, Lisbon. Guess you caught me there. Or you just really don't want me to drive…"

"Both, Jane. Both." She snickered and grabbed her purse and jacket. "But I'll allow you to drive for once. You can have a glass or two and will still be below the legal limit. I on the other hand…"

"Yes, yes, the curse of being tiny and slender…" he teased her.

His ear got another cuff. "Have we come full circle now, Jane? As if you were such a giant…"

* * *

They left the apartment and went to his car. "Julie? This is Teresa, Teresa, may I introduce you to Julie?" Patrick declared gallantly, while he unlocked the passenger door for his lover and held it open.

Teresa snickered a bit but got into the car with a new appreciation for it and the appropriate respect for the vehicle and its history. Jane opened the driver side and took his seat behind the wheel. Before he started the engine he paused a moment in obvious contemplation, then he nodded and seemed to have come to a decision about something. He invited her to turn her head and look at the backseat where he pointed out a faint stain. "And this is where my daughter was born," he said, his voice clouded with remembered awe.

"Charlotte was born in this car? You didn't mention that before," Teresa asked with amazement.

He nodded. "We didn't quite make it to the hospital. She came so fast. I had to stop the car two miles from the clinic and help deliver her. I panicked completely at first, but Angie boxed my head and snapped at me to pull myself together. It was by far the most momentous event in my life." His eyes were far away and the smile on his face was so tender Teresa had to swallow down some tears. "When I suddenly held my baby girl in my hands it was perfect. She was perfect. She was wrinkled, covered in goo, red-faced, and wailing, and she was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He wiped away the single tear threatening to escape his watery eyes.

Lisbon covered his cheeks with her hands and caressed them with her thumbs. She locked eyes with him and showed him how much she sympathized with him. "I promise I won't ever say anything debasing about this car again. She seems to be a real monument of Jane family history and she has just earned a soft spot in my heart."

He smiled warmly and pecked her on the lips. "Thanks, Teresa. But it's alright for you to tease Julie a bit as long as it is good-natured. She has a devious sense of humor herself, especially early in the morning on cold days …"

His comment lightened the mood again and they both grinned at each other before Patrick started the car and they drove off.

* * *

Teresa and Patrick were the first to arrive at the pizzeria where they were to meet the rest of his family. They found their table and were just about to take a seat when the rest of the party arrived together. Patrick greeted his grandparents first with his grandmother pulling him into a tight embrace at once. "Look, dear. I'm wearing the nice blouse you found for me yesterday. Even Jonathan had to admit that sometimes clothes might not just be clothes." She smiled warmly at him. "Emma here has already commandeered you for a shopping trip in the near future. Ah yes, you don't know each other yet. This, my dear, is Emma, my daughter-in-law and well, your aunt I guess. Emma, meet Patrick."

The two shook hands a bit awkwardly. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jane," Patrick said politely. "This is my partner at work and most importantly in life, Teresa Lisbon," he introduced his lover as well.

Emma Jane was an elegant, tall, blond woman in her late forties with sparkling warm blue eyes and a kind smile. Though she exuded the air of a person who wouldn't have the slightest problem making a good figure on a cocktail party with the President, she didn't come across as reserved or drawling. Patrick read her as a genuine, straightforward kind of person, self-confident, at peace with herself. He figured she complimented her husband's impulsiveness with her even temper and considerate behavior.

Now she took in the newest member of the family with a sharp, inquisitive look. "May I call you Patrick?" she asked carefully.

"Of course, ma'am," he replied courteously.

"Then I would like to ask you to return the favor and call me Emma. I'm your aunt after all. No need for any primness. I know my hotheaded husband didn't make the best first impression of this part of the Jane family, but rest assured that I neither knew of his actions until he told me afterwards nor approve of them in any way," the blond woman said in a friendly tone and with an icy look towards her better half, who stood a bit awkwardly by her side. Then the resolute woman shoved her two children in front of her, put one hand on the boy's and one hand on the girl's shoulder, and added, "These are your cousins, Mary and Paul."

Patrick smiled at the two teenagers. As usual the sight of a girl approximately the same age his daughter would be today sent a sting of pain to his heart and he had to swallow down the sadness that threatened to well up in his chest – especially after the conversation he'd just had in the car with Teresa commemorating Charlotte's birth. The woman by his side seemed to sense his distress and gave his hand a discreet but comforting squeeze. She really knew him well, he realized yet again.

Mary looked sullen and seemed in the middle of a good sulk. She had her mother's bright hair and blue eyes and had some freckles on and around her nose, which made her look astute. He figured she was obviously at an age where dinner with the family seemed like the worst calamity. Her pout was cute and he decided he liked her. So he shot her a grin, which caused her to whisper to her brother, "Hah, now you finally have your male cousin, baby bro. Too bad he's as old as the hills." This observation was followed by a smirk.

But Patrick wasn't the least bit insulted. If possible his grin grew even wider. Emma however didn't seem amused. "Mary, really. Behave yourself. That was rude," she scolded and cast him an apologetic look.

"Ah, don't worry," he told her, before he turned towards his female cousin with his grin still in place. "To you I guess I am just about ready to bite the dust. Unfortunately, I plan to stay around for a while yet. So you'll be forced to share at least dinner with me tonight, a real peeve, I imagine. So many other much more entertaining things to do after all… Nice to meet you, Mary."

The teenaged girl looked at him in open-mouthed shock. "You… I… okay," she stammered with a blush.

Matthew chimed in at that point. "Ah, Mary here just wants to tease here brother. Paul always wished for a male cousin because my wife's sister only has two girls. One is Mary's age and they are very good friends, the other is only five. My son has always felt a bit left out and wanted someone to play with as well," he explained.

The youngest member of the Jane family would have been the perfect image of his father apart from the hair color, which was reddish-brown. This in turn made him look quite a bit like a younger version of Alexander Jane. It had given Patrick pause for a second at first, but he'd recovered his poise without anyone noticing. The thirteen-year-old boy seemed a bit shy, his smile was hesitant, but the CBI consultant perceived a lot of curiosity in his eyes, which were a bluish-green in color very similar to his own.

"Hi, Paul. Sorry, I'm not quite the cousin you wished for, but I've been told I have a much younger personality. So maybe we'll find some common ground anyway." He smiled warmly at the timid boy and got a more relaxed one in return.

* * *

With all the greetings out of the way they took their seats at the round table. Teresa sat to Patrick's right, while Paul ended up to his left with Mary flanking Paul's other side. They got the menus and made their picks. Conversation was a bit slow going at first while they waited for their food.

The two teenagers bickered, their parents scolding them without much success. Mary seemed intent on needling her brother about some papers he was reading. "Oh, come on, dumbass. You're never gonna get it. You're too stupid. How long have you been trying now? Two weeks? Four weeks? Oh no! Has it really been two whole months already? You'll be the laughing stock of the school. Just a pity you don't have any other talents either," she taunted him with an evil grin on her face.

Her mother got very angry at that. "Don't you dare talk to your brother that way, Mary Elisa Jane. You're not allowed to degrade him like that. Your brother is doing a fine job. It's just that one little trick he has a hard time figuring out. And I'm proud he hasn't given up. He could just as well do his show without it. No one would know anyway."

The girl didn't seem the least bit chastised. "He only knows some boring tricks anybody could do. It's supposed to be a talent show. I'm just making sure my baby brother doesn't embarrass the family, mum."

"No, you're not. You're just being a bully instead of a supportive big sister," her father reprimanded her.

"What kind of show are you planning?" Patrick asked the insecure boy quietly.

"We're gonna have that stupid talent show in school in ten days. Everybody has to present something they're good at. I… I don't really…" Paul stammered, but then he made an effort and composed himself. "I'm not talented, as my sister has pointed out. So I'm gonna be the idiot of the school," he added with a defiant voice.

His father spoke up again, "That's nonsense, son. You are already quite the magician. It's just that one stupid trick thingy you're struggling with. You have plenty of others you can show. I'm sure yours will be a splendid magic show and your classmates will love it."

"Yeah sure, dad. It's just one of the most basic moves a magician needs to know. But you of course have no idea about that because you hate my hobby anyway," the boy huffed.

Patrick's interest had been peeked at the first indication that magic tricks were involved in the problem but now that his cousin had mentioned his father's dislike of this sort of thing, he didn't dare to make further inquiries. Teresa on the other hand didn't have such qualms. "Well, Paul, seems like today is your lucky day because as it happens you are seated beside a man who is quite the magician himself. I'm sure Patrick would love to help you out."

He cast her an angry look so only she could see it, but turned his attention to the boy to his left who asked, with a desperately hopeful expression, "Really? Do you really know some tricks? Would you teach me, please?"

Patrick smiled warmly at his cousin. "Oh, I do know a piece or two of legerdemain." And to prove the point he conjured a candy from behind Paul's ear.

The boy beamed with happiness. "Can you vanish things, too? Because that's what I've been trying for weeks and I've read all about it, but I just can't get the hand movements right and I've nearly given up and it's gonna be so embarrassing," he rambled with excitement.

The blond man nodded and let the candy disappear in his hand again with a wave. "And Paul? Believe me, you won't learn that from a book. Forget everything you've read about it, okay?"

The teenager nodded eagerly and Patrick bent down to him and whispered conspiratorially, "But I'm only gonna teach this to a fellow magician. The others can't know or the guild would have to dispatch them, I'm afraid."

The others around the table got the clue and started their own conversations again, realizing that Patrick wanted to take the pressure of a public display from the boy. Only Mary watched them with eagle eyes but refrained from commenting. She had to admit, this newfound cousin intrigued her. He seemed genuinely interesting and nothing like the boring old man she'd expected.

The adults cast discreet glances at the pair once in a while and could see that those two had found the tone with each other. Paul smiled, face full of excitement and Patrick's expression conveyed honest interest and patience. The CBI consultant appeared to be a very good teacher because the teenage boy had lost a lot of his tension and managed to copy the hand movements and instructions with increasing success.

They were interrupted by the food arriving, but Patrick promised him to continue afterwards. "You're nearly there anyway. You have a knack for this, Paul. I'm sure you'll have it down by the time dessert arrives."

The boy looked up at him with admiration and awe. "Thank you. You're the best cousin ever." And with that said he turned his head towards his sister and stuck out his tongue. "Bet stupid cousin Betsy can't teach YOU any tricks, can she? All she talks about is boys and clothes. Patrick's cool," he taunted her.

Grandmother Jane decided to get involved at that point to avoid another quarrel between the siblings. "Ah, but Paul, dear. Patrick knows quite a bit about clothes as well, I'm afraid."

The boy's eyes widened with horror. "Really?" he asked his cousin, appalled at the mere thought.

"I can assure you, I know a lot more about magic, Paul. I'm certain cousin Betsy is still the one to turn to for teenage fashion advice," the blond man answered diplomatically, making the other adults at the table snicker.

"Why don't we eat now?" Jonathan suggested. "Everything looks delicious and I wouldn't mind for those two bickering mouths-," he cast a pointed look at the youngest Janes, "-to be stuffed for a while."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are almost like pizza: not exactly necessary to survive but extremely enjoyable and welcome all the same. And they always make you wish for more... Feel free to choose whichever topping you prefer - I'll like and appreciate them all I'm sure ;-)**


	39. Chapter 39

**Still some Jane family time ahead...**

* * *

After the main course Patrick excused himself to the toilet and Matthew took that as his cue to follow him and talk to him in private.

"Oh, hi," Patrick greeted him warily when he suddenly appeared beside him at the urinal. "I hope you don't mind me teaching your boy that stuff. I didn't mean to go against you and it sounded like you're not that happy about his interest in magical tricks. But I couldn't very well say no at that point. Sorry."

Matt patted him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, which made the other man flinch a bit at first. "Don't worry, Patrick. I'm truly glad you're helping him. He's been so frustrated and almost desperate. And you seem to do an excellent job. Thanks."

"Okay," Patrick answered neutrally. He was really mystified by the other man and had a difficult time reading him.

"You're right. At first I wasn't happy with his hobby. It reminded me too much of my brother. But I've done a lot of thinking since the last time we met, Patrick, and I have realized that thinking my boy might turn into a replica of your father only because he has the same hobby is just as absurd and uncalled for as my assumptions of you being just like him."

The blond man cast his uncle a sideways glance to find out if the other was telling the truth. When he was convinced that Matthew indeed seemed honest, he replied, "Alright then. Though I have to warn you: I learned what I just taught Paul from Alex."

Both men had walked over to the sinks by now and were washing their hands.

"I figured as much. It's okay, really. The fact that my brother knew them as well doesn't automatically turn magic tricks into something evil. It's just that at first… well, I'm sure you've noticed their similar appearances?"

Patrick nodded. "It was a bit of a shock I have to admit. But Paul's personality is rather the opposite from what I've gathered so far. He's… timid, slightly insecure – not unusual at this age, especially for boys. He's smart, a quick study, but not a high-achiever. He…" he stopped himself at that point. "Sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to do a cold-reading on your son, sir."

Matt sighed. "Could you please drop the whole 'sir' crap? I'm really sorry we had such a lousy first meeting, but I would like to try for a fresh start. It's not just something I'm saying to please my parents. And you calling me 'sir' feels wrong and weird. I'm Matthew, or rather Matt. That's what my family calls me, at least when I'm not in trouble." He grinned sheepishly at the last part.

The younger male examined the older one intently for a moment and sensed the other's honesty. He took a deep breath, stood tall and held out his right hand. "Hello, I'm your nephew, Patrick. It's nice to meet you." Matt smiled at him warmly, returned the gesture and they shook hands. With a smirk, the younger Jane added, "But don't expect me to call you uncle. THAT would be weird."

They turned to leave. "Saw on TV that you riled up Gale Bertram the other night," Matt said conversationally. Patrick nodded warily. "Well, good for you! Never liked that sleazy bloke. He taught a few classes when I was on a seminar a few years ago. Always kept that crowd of boot-licking followers around. Never had him as a teacher myself though."

"I'm glad you approve. He rubbed me the wrong way right from the start." Patrick grinned, remembering his first contact with the man.

"Yes, I can imagine. You played him extremely well by the way. You would've made an excellent lawyer, I'm sure." Matt cast him an approving look while he opened the door of the men's room and motioned for Patrick to lead the way.

"Thanks for the compliment. But believe me when I tell you that the judicial system of this state is far better off without me being a part of it. I'm already causing enough havoc on the other side of law enforcement…" Patrick replied with a look over his shoulder at his uncle, testing the waters a bit with the last part of his statement.

To his surprise the older man chuckled. "So I've been told. But with astonishing results to show for it. Nearly forty percent. That's how much the rate of closed cases has improved since you joined the CBI. That's quite a number, Patrick. Impressive."

"The team's great. It's a joint accomplishment," the younger Jane explained modestly, as they walked back to their table.

"Oh I don't doubt their qualities. Especially your girlfriend is a force to be reckoned with. But I'm equally as sure that your special input is what truly distinguishes your team from others," Matt said cordially, patting the other man's shoulder once more. And to his delight his nephew didn't flinch this time.

They'd reached the others again by now and the last exchange had been overheard by them. "You're right about that, Matthew," Teresa chimed in. "He is the best detective in this state, as I've told you before." Her face showed pride.

Patrick passed her by on his way to his chair and pecked her on the cheek. "We're the best team in the state, Lisbon. Never forget that. I might connect the dots and make the picture more visible with my schemes, but if it wasn't for the team, there wouldn't be any dots to connect." Teresa looked up at him in open astonishment and he added with a chuckle, "Yes, I know. Usually I only make fun of your tedious police work, but I do understand its value. Don't expect me to ever say the same about that absurd paperwork you seem so fond of, though."

Everybody laughed at that and the conversation around the table continued in high spirits. As Patrick had promised, Paul had the hand movements necessary to vanish objects down by the time their desserts arrived and during the course of the evening he taught his cousin a wide range of other tricks. To the amazement and amusement of everyone, but especially the two youngest participants, he conjured a whole assortment of devices suitable for doing magic from the divers pockets of his waistcoat and jacket, so that at least Mary and Paul were well entertained by their new relative all along. Even the girl had taken an active interest and seemed genuinely happy when - after asking Paul's permission – Patrick taught her a card trick as well.

Teresa had watched the display with great amusement. It was so typically Patrick to completely enamor the teenagers in a matter of hours. Earlier in their acquaintance she'd always assumed it was his childish disposition that lured youngsters to him, but now she knew it wasn't just that.

He was rather good relating to them, no doubt, and he had a childlike curiosity and way about him. But his wasn't real immaturity. It was easy to forget that he'd indeed been a responsible husband and father who'd cared for his family. She knew that side of him as well. And so she'd realized that the real knack he had when dealing with children was his ability to take them seriously without coming across as patronizing. He showed them honest respect and treated them as equals without giving up his position as the older, wiser adult. It was a true gift and a very positive side effect of his incredible skills of perception paired with a genuine liking for the honesty and innocence of children.

To him they represented people free from ulterior motives, machinations, and betrayal, and considering his own childhood and life so far she could very well understand his desire to be around forthrightness. And watching him dealing with children had in fact been the most redeeming factor in her eyes in the beginning of their cooperation. No one in their right mind could ever doubt that Patrick Jane was a good man after seeing him around children. To her at least it had always been a sight of beauty to observe his interactions with kids of all ages.

And if she wasn't entirely wrong, he'd managed to slay even the last remaining doubts in the rest of the Jane family as well tonight. She'd seen Matthew watching his nephew out of the corner of his eye on quite a few occasions and his expression had been a very pleased one. Teresa was sure Patrick had won over Emma already during their greeting, when he'd diffused the potentially awkward situation with the sulking teenage girl in the blink of an eye. Elisa already adored her oldest grandchild. And Teresa had seen pride and affection glinting in Jonathan's eyes the whole evening when his gaze lingered on the child of his oldest son.

* * *

Yes, this had indeed been a very successful evening, Teresa concluded while shaking hands with everybody when they all took their farewells, and it would make the events to come the next day a whole lot easier to deal with.

On their way home Lisbon said as much to him. He cast her a slightly doubtful sideways glance and said, "Not that I didn't have a good time and all - Mary and Paul are great kids – but I barely exchanged a word with any of the adults. So not really a setting that allowed me to gain many brownie points, I'd say."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "For someone so perceptive you can be completely oblivious at times."

"Oh really? Then please enlighten me, Lisbon. How did you perceive this evening? And what pray tell has made it such a success in your eyes?" he asked sarcastically.

"No need to get all snippy, Jane. You do have quite a blind spot when it comes to reading your newfound family." She held up her hand to stop him from interrupting her and he complied and shut his mouth. "You can deny it all you want but you know I'm right. I don't expect you to admit it but you can't fool me, Patrick. You have made some pretty incorrect presumptions in that respect already and if you were to be honest for a moment, you would acknowledge it."

She gave him a minute to let it sink in. A moment later he conceded, "Well, maybe you have a point there. It does seem especially difficult to read that bunch."

Her hand wandered to his thigh and she gave him a gentle squeeze. "Because you're not the neutral, keen observer you normally are. For once you're in a position that involves deep feelings and desires. It's only natural that this would cloud your observations and judgment." Her hand had lingered on his thigh and now she started to caress his leg lightly in a gesture of comfort. "You've read me wrong on a few occasions as well since we got together, if you need further proof, my love."

She could sense him wriggling a bit in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable. It was a barely visible reaction, but she could judge him well enough by now to recognize it. "It's okay, Patrick. No need to be embarrassed. It's because you're so afraid of rejection that you try to read signs of rejection into every action of the people you're close to. It's perfectly understandable."

He shook his head. "You're really starting to scare me, Teresa. I guess I'm just getting a taste of my own medicine: I seem to be an open book to you these days… I'm not sure how I feel about being dissected like this." He looked quite sheepish at that but grinned anyway.

Teresa laughed out loud at his last comment. She loved his humor and she appreciated his readiness to make good-natured fun of himself like that. "Well, didn't you want someone to love you even though they know about all your flaws?" she challenged him.

"Ah, and another question answered at long last: You did watch that application video Erica made of me," he deduced.

She could sense some insecurity in his tone. "Yes, Patrick. I admit that I did watch it. It was your own fault, stealing my laptop and all. And it was very enlightening to see it, at least the few passages where you were being truthful."

Turning very serious and wishing for this talk to take place at another location than his car, she added, "I know I'm not your wife, but I want you to know that I love you just the way you are and that I'm very happy to have you in my life, Patrick. I couldn't wish for a better man to be with."

He remained silent for a good two minutes, fighting to compose himself and focusing on driving, before he answered hoarsely, "You are a cruel woman, Teresa, telling me such things while I have to make sure I don't crash the car instead of ravishing you."

She snickered, both to fight her own bout of desire for him and to set him at ease a bit. "I must admit I might have picked a bad moment to tell you and would gladly do something other than hold my breath and hope you won't cause any accidents – well even more so than usual that is. But as that's not an option until we're back home, I could analyze this evening for you from my point of view instead. What do you think?"

He sighed heavily. "Well, can't say that that's a real alternative to my actual desires right now, but it'll have to do. And I am kind of curious about your version of the events. So, by all means, shoot!"

She snickered and squeezed his thigh again. "And be careful with manhandling my anatomy, Teresa, or I can't be held responsible for my actions or guarantee any further compliance with traffic regulations," he whined.

Her snicker turned into a real laugh and of course she had to squeeze his thigh once more, a bit higher up than before for good measure, eliciting a groan from him. "I trust in that superior self-control you always claim to possess, Mr. Jane," she teased him.

He pretended to groan with frustration, but motioned for her to go on talking. "About the evening: don't you realize that it was exactly the fact that you got on so well with your cousins that produced a whole mountain of your so called brownie points?"

Patrick frowned. "What are you implying? I mean, I know that I had a promising start with the kids, but that won't help me much if the parents don't want me to have any further contact with them. Sure, I made some headway with Matt, but apart from the introductions I barely exchanged a word with Emma. Very proper lady, that one. Don't know much about her except from that."

She snorted. "It's really unbelievable how utterly clueless you can be sometimes."

"Gee, thanks. Could you stop insulting me for a minute and explain things instead?" he chimed in rather miffed.

"Sorry, Patrick. I didn't mean it that way. I'll try to clarify it. It's as plain as that: nothing could possibly show you in a more favorable light than you being around children," she said warmly, and started caressing his thigh out of simple, innocent affection. "You are great with kids. All your best qualities come to the fore when you're together with them. The way you comport yourself in the company of children is the best thinkable advertisement for your personality. In other words: you charmed the whole Jane family into the ground tonight without even realizing it."

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "Me too, by the way. It happens every time you come across children. I'm a total sucker for it."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are like Jane with kids: a sight that makes me very happy...**


	40. Chapter 40

**Warning: Explicit sexual content**

* * *

Patrick was entirely speechless and remained so for the rest of their drive home after his one attempt at speaking had turned into a hapless stutter.

His inability to form coherent words didn't stretch to committing actions however. As soon as they'd entered their home, he picked Teresa up and carried her upstairs in a rush. He put her down on their bed and before she had a chance to really comprehend what was going on, her shoes, socks, and pants were already gone and he was well on his way to removing her jacket and top as well.

"Woo, woo, Jane! What's the rush?" she teased him.

He didn't answer and continued with his endeavor of getting her naked as fast as possible. She didn't resist, but watched it all with increasing amusement. She loved it when pent up emotions got the better of him. He tended to be extra passionate on those occasions and made love to her without any restraint. As it happened, her desire for him had been simmering the whole evening through. She'd been hot for him for hours and their talk in the car had done the rest. This would be hard, intense and fast, and she didn't mind that at all.

Though he was in a hurry and didn't exactly put on a show, watching him stripping out of his own clothes turned her on even more. She admired his light-fingeredness when he opened his many buttons with precise, quick movements and couldn't quell an appreciative groan, when his very appealing chest was revealed. The removal of his pants and shorts elicited another groan, especially when he bent down to step out of them and remove his socks.

She sat up on the bed, legs dangling over the edge, when he stood before her in his naked glory, already fully erect. His eyes looked at her with hunger and barely concealed desire and as usual she felt like the most covetable woman in the world when he looked at her like that. It made her frantic with need. "God, Patrick, I want you," she moaned urgently.

He kneeled between her legs and caressed her thighs, coaxing her into opening them further. He bent his head and kissed her clit lightly making her cry out. His tongue started to open her up and penetrate her, preparing her for a bigger intruder – not that it would have been necessary, she was more than ready for him. But he'd probably sensed her desperate state and decided to bring her off once to take off the edge before the real act. She was panting constantly, fervently mumbling his name in between. He was devouring her hungrily and as usual, he succeeded in taking her higher and higher before granting her release. When he finally allowed her to come, she was shouting his name uncontrollably.

* * *

He gave her a moment to come down from her high - using the time to don a condom - before his lips found hers in a kiss reminiscent of what he'd just done to another part of her anatomy. Then he pushed her torso back down onto the bed, grabbed her legs, put them around his waist and pulled her even closer to the edge of the bed. In his kneeling position his groin came right up to her core and with a look of intense concentration he entered her slowly and carefully, knowing from previous experience that she would still be hyper sensitive right now.

When he was finally fully engulfed by her, a sigh of deep satisfaction escaped him. Teresa realized that it took all of his outstanding self-command not to nail her at this moment. With her heels pushing against his butt she urged him in deeper and gave her consent for him to move, and move he did: his thrusts were almost brutal and she egged him on to take her harder. His grip on her hips, which forced her down on his shaft even more with his every stroke, was leaving bruises, she was sure, but she didn't care.

They were both very vocal, though not really coherent. She could decipher a few 'love yous' and 'gods', but other than that he was mostly crying out his arousal with abandon. So much unrestrained openness from him during sex was rather rare and she appreciated it all the more now that it happened and it turned her excitement up another notch.

He changed his angle a bit, knowing fully well that this would make the contact even more pleasurable for her, the sly fox. But even in her state she took it for the tactical move it was: he was very close himself and wanted them to come together, which - only two minutes later - they did, both with liberating shouts.

Her legs fell bonelessly down from around his waist and his penis left her when he hunkered down and his head sank onto her stomach. She gathered enough energy to move one of her hands into his hair, playing gently with the short curls at his neck. He sighed languorously, his arms coming up to caress her torso tenderly.

* * *

"I love you so much, Patrick," she declared when her breathing was back under her control. "I never knew that sex could be that fulfilling and intense until our relationship started. God, I could do this all day long!" And with a snicker she added, "Well, we almost did today, come to think of it. I must compliment you on your stamina. Not bad for an old man."

Her kissed her stomach. "I conserved myself for you, remember? For years. That should yield some benefits, don't you think?" he joked. He looked up at her with a fond smile, "And how could I resist a minx like you? You're so incredibly beautiful, Teresa. I hope you know that."

She blushed at the compliment and his bedazzled look. "Don't be embarrassed," he said softly. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Get used to it because I won't stop telling you, even if it makes you uncomfortable."

"You're being really sweet again, Patrick," she mocked him trying to overcome her discomfort with some teasing.

"Oh come on, Lisbon. Cut me some slack. A man's surely allowed to be a bit sappy right after making love to the woman of his heart, especially if she happens to be the most adorable, beautiful, smart, did I mention beautiful, woman in the world, both on the inside and out," he teased her back.

She ruffled his newly cut hair affectionately and smiled warmly. "Alright, imp. You win. But just because you happen to be the cutest, most handsome, charming, did I mention cutest, man in the world."

He chuckled and got up from his crouch and pulled her into a sitting position. Then he bent down and kissed her deeply. "I don't know about you, but unfortunately I still have a shirt to iron for tomorrow," he said with a sigh, gathering his shorts and putting them on, after he'd gotten rid of the used rubber. Following that he started to pick up the rest of their scattered clothes and either folded them neatly or put them on hangers.

She watched, enjoying him doing those mundane tasks with the same intensity with which he did most things. Amused with herself, she realized that even this seemed to arouse her these days. And considering the knowing look he suddenly cast her, he'd noticed it as well. He grinned and said, "I think not, Teresa. Because if I let you lure me in now, I'll never iron that shirt. And then I would probably exude some kind of homeless vibe tomorrow at the funeral. Can't have that, can we?"

Her eyes twinkled with mirth remembering the scene his words evoked. She got up from the bed and embraced him from behind while he put their still usable clothes back into the closet. He couldn't prevent her hands from stroking his chest because his were occupied with the garments he was handling, and she exploited that fact ruthlessly, knowing very well that this was one of his most sensitive areas. "You little minx," he mock-scolded her. "But you won't get away with it, Emy. I have better control than that."

This of course only provoked her to challenge him even more. One of her hands left his chest and sneaked into his shorts. To her satisfaction she found him already half-hard again and her touch caused a noticeable twitch. "Control?" she snickered. "You call that control, Jane? Then this must be some kind of a pocket-rocket."

He tucked away the last of their clothes stoically, but as soon as he was free of his task again, he grabbed her arms with one of his hands and held them above her head. With his other arm he pulled her flat to his chest, and then took hold of her head and turned it up so he could kiss her.

It was a deep, passionate kiss, meant to seduce her and convince her she'd won, and it did so effectively. She moaned into his mouth, which was his cue to release her and step out of her reach. "If you can hold that thought until I'm done with my ironing, I'll be all too happy to continue this, Lisbon." He smirked, grabbed the shirt he intended to wear the next day, and left the bedroom to go to the laundry where she kept the equipment he needed.

She cursed him under her breath and had to admit once more that he was simply better at playing this particular game. But she was improving. He stuck his head out of the laundry and asked loudly, "Is there anything you need ironed for tomorrow, love?"

"As a matter of fact, now that you mention it, my blouse could do with a bit of unwrinkling. I'll be with you in a minute."

Teresa put on her sleepwear, found said blouse and joined her boyfriend. She'd actually never seen him ironing before and considering how often he forwent wearing ironed shirts, she was a bit skeptical about his abilities in that regard. But she should have known that Patrick Jane didn't do things by half. As in most cases with him he performed this task as if he'd never done anything else.

Taking in her expression he said, "Don't look so astonished. Just because I hate ironing doesn't mean I don't know how to do it. I was responsible for all our stage clothes as long as I can remember. Believe me – I've quite a bit of experience. So you can trust me with your blouse." He motioned with his hand for her to give it to him and she complied without hesitation.

"Well, I hate ironing too. So this will be one chore we'll have to share evenly," she replied a bit disappointed. They'd talked about their preferences when it came to household tasks and for the most part, they were extremely compatible. Patrick detested vacuuming, which Teresa in turn didn't mind much. She on the other hand didn't like cleaning the bathroom, which he had no problems with – and so on, and so forth.

"We can always decide to walk around all wrinkly," he suggested with a grin.

"At least in your case, no one would notice any difference," she teased him.

He nodded merrily, continuing his task with sure precision. "That's true I guess. Another option would be to invest in the dry-cleaner's for that. I do on occasion when I have to take my suits there anyway. I'm sure you've recognized those memorable times when I actually wore ironed shirts?" He looked up from the ironing board and took in her nod. "Other than that, I didn't have much of a chance to do it myself. Most motels don't offer the necessary equipment and the CBI attic certainly doesn't," he explained sheepishly.

"Hence the homeless vibe," she teased him.

"Not anymore, though," he answered seriously.

"No, not anymore, love," she agreed with a warm voice. "Now you're home."

"Yes I am." He smiled happily.

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are like Jane+Lisbon sex: you just can't get enough of it...**


	41. Chapter 41

**A fluffy funeral chapter - strange but true...**

* * *

The funeral was supposed to take place at 11 am and Patrick had arranged with his grandparents to be there an hour early to prepare the chapel together with the undertaker. Apart from the family, the team, and Andy and his wife, he didn't expect anybody else to come, though after the events from Friday night he anticipated the local media would make an appearance.

When Patrick and Teresa arrived in her car at 9:45, the cemetery was crowded with people. They presumed that another funeral was taking place until he spotted Pete and Sam. "I'll be damned," he exclaimed. "There's a whole bunch of carnies out there. And here I thought Alex had managed to alienate just about everyone." He shook his head and sighed.

Lisbon squeezed his hand and they left the car. Before long Patrick was surrounded by dozens of illustrious people hugging him, shaking his hand, and wishing him well, all of which he greeted warmly. "Thank you guys. It's really very nice of you all to show up. I'm sure Alex would have appreciated it. Thanks for coming."

Pete chimed in and explained, with affirmative nods from the rest of the crowd, "We're not here for Alex, Patrick. We're here for you."

"Yeah," a small old man with a long beard agreed. "Ye know carnies never meddle in other carnies' affairs, but Alex never did right by you, boy."

Consenting murmurs could be heard. "Ye not s'posed to speak ill of the dead, but ye dad wasn't a good man, Paddy," a matronly woman declared. Teresa recognized her as the one who'd gifted her with a delicious candy apple during their fateful visit to the carnival two weeks ago.

Patrick looked completely overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say. Thanks, I'm really touched," he said honestly. "I thought since I left you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me anymore and…"

Another carnie interrupted him. Lisbon was rather sure he owned one of the rides she'd been on. "Nah, Jane. You had to get away from your old man. And that Ruskin girl of yours was never cut out for carnie life anyway. I told her granddad that all the time. She was a smart one, not made for manning ferris wheels or something like that."

"Though I'm not sure about you and that cop lady," Sam chimed in with a critical look.

Patrick put an arm around Teresa's waist and pulled her close, his expression turning hard and cold, "None of your business, Sam. I love her and I won't accept anybody giving her a hard time. If you can't deal with that you better leave."

A murmur went through the crowd after this, but no one left. On the contrary, statements like "About time he moved on," could be heard.

"Mr. Jane? Mr. Jane?" a nervous voice could be heard.

"Ah, Mr. Sterling. Good morning," Patrick greeted the undertaker who'd just managed to get to him through the crowd.

"Mr. Jane, are all those people here for your late father's funeral?" the portly gray-haired man inquired. Patrick nodded. "But you said it would be a very small service? Should I try to organize additional seating arrangements?"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I didn't expect that many people to come. If you could arrange something, I would be most obliged. Can I assist in any way?" Jane asked politely.

"Your grandparents just arrived, Mr. Jane. You probably didn't see them. I hardly recognized you amongst all your guests either. I don't want to intrude on your reunion with your friends here, but it would probably be a good idea if you accompanied me to the chapel now," the undertaker suggested courteously.

"Yes of course, Mr. Sterling." He turned to the crowd. "Sorry, guys. I have to leave for now. I hope we get the chance to catch up later."

* * *

Inside the chapel Jonathan and Elisa were waiting for them. "Who are all those people, Patrick?" his grandfather asked curiously.

"Just some folks from, well, you know. My former life," Patrick answered bashfully. He turned on his heels and headed over to the undertaker in a hurry to help him placing additional chairs in the room.

Teresa shook her head at her lover's behavior. "He still thinks you have a problem with his unorthodox upbringing amongst carnies." She pointed outside. "They've all come to support him. I think it's rather touching. I guess Patrick's afraid you won't like it," she tried to explain.

"But that's wonderful," Elisa said. "Even though it's still rather strange to imagine Alex and Patrick as traveling people, it's fitting for the occasion, isn't it? It's been our son's chosen way of life after all."

* * *

By the time 11 o'clock had arrived the chapel was brimming with people. In addition to the carnies, a lot of CBI employees had found their way there, including agents from other teams and all sorts of maintenance staff. Somewhere in the back she was sure she'd spotted Madeleine Hightower and Teresa recognized quite a few people from cases they'd worked, as well as some folks from the DA's office to her great surprise. She even identified Sam and Harriet, the owners of the _Fir Tree_, in the crowd. Unfortunately the media was also present and, to Patrick's utter shock and dismay, Director Bertram himself had made an appearance as well, probably for PR reasons.

The first row was occupied solely by close friends and family. Apart from the Janes and Teresa, Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt sat there, Andy and Sheila as well, together with Danny Ruskin, who'd also shown up to Patrick's complete astonishment.

The service had been meant to be short and low key, the only personal elements being Elisa and Mary playing Brahm's Cradle-song on the violin and the piano and Jonathan saying a few words. The last part had turned out to be the highlight of the whole affair because his speech had been followed by roaring applause - a rather unusual occurrence during a funeral service – first initiated by some of the carnies, but carried on by most of the guests in the end:

"Good morning, everybody," Jonathan started, standing in front of the crowd. "I think it's safe to say that we're all a bit overwhelmed by the many people who're gathered here today. We didn't expect it at all, or rather my wife and I didn't have any idea what to expect and our grandson here didn't warn us about the fact that he had so many friends and acquaintances." He cast a fond smile at Patrick. This caused some choked down snickers.

The oldest Jane cleared his throat and continued carefully, "I know that this is supposed to be a time and place to remember Alexander Jane, my oldest son, and recognize and celebrate his life and achievements. However, I have a hard time finding the right words."

He sighed. "For over four decades I didn't know where he was and what he was doing or whether he was still alive at all because he decided to leave his home at the age of 19 and cut all ties to his family. Our history is a troubled one. We only ever heard about him again two weeks ago and that was when we learnt about his violent death." He paused a moment, taking in the silent, attentive crowd.

Releasing a deep breath, he went on, "It's hard for a father to say it, especially on the day of his funeral, but my son Alexander wasn't a good man." A lot of murmurs erupted after that, and Jonathan stood up even straighter than before and said in a firm, strong voice, "I can't and I won't stand here in front of you and lie about his great deeds and many accomplishments because many of you knew him and wouldn't believe me anyway." Affirmative whispers were audible. "He didn't, however, deserve to die the way he did, violently at the hands of a man who has caused my grandson so much grief and heartache already."

He paused again to collect himself, before he continued with a warmer expression on his face. "And there is in fact one positive thing to mention about Alexander, one great deed of his, if you want. A wondrous one, that has helped my wife Elisa and me to deal with this whole tragedy. During this time of grief we've been granted a great gift. The best we could possibly wish for and even more appreciated because it was so totally unexpected." He took a step forward at that and placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "We've been blessed with getting to know a wonderful man, our grandson Patrick. And because of him I'll be able to remember my son Alexander James Jane in a favorable light. Thank you."

That's when the applause had started and to Patrick's utter consternation and embarrassment even cheers with his name could be heard. "Please shoot me now," he muttered in Teresa's direction, but she'd just snickered quietly and squeezed his hand discreetly, not daring to show open affection in front of so many CBI people. He then glared at his grandfather, who'd retaken his seat by Patrick's side. "How could you?" he spat at him under his breath. "This is a nightmare. There's even media present."

But Jonathan only patted his thigh and answered, completely unperturbed, "I only told the truth, son. And it seems like the crowd agrees with me."

Andy got up from his chair at that point and announced, "As our Patrick here couldn't be bothered to arrange something I've taken the liberty to do so for him: there'll be a funeral party at the _Fir Tree_ starting in one hour. You're all welcome to join us there, well, not the media, sorry folks."

Another round of applause and cheers followed and the undertaker stood by in obvious discomposure.

"That sounds like fun," Elisa said quietly to her husband. She'd needed a few minutes to regain her poise after her husband's speech and in light of her son's funeral. The whole affair had finally caught up with her and she'd been more affected than she'd expected. But the developments of the last minutes had helped her deal with it. "This is by far the most unusual service I've been to," she added. "It's strangely fitting, isn't it?" she asked him.

"I couldn't agree more, Elly. I guess I got a bit carried away myself. But I was so touched by the fact that so many people have come to show Patrick their respect. It's good for him to see this. You want us to join the party?" She nodded eagerly. "Me too."

* * *

As soon as the service was over the media surrounded Patrick like vultures. "How are you feeling about Red John killing your father, Patrick?" was just one of the most prominent questions fired at him. But he refused to say a word. They turned their attention to Teresa instead. "Agent Lisbon? Have you heard that one hour ago the Department of Justice removed Gale Bertram from his position as CBI's Director effective immediately? Any comments?"

She just shook her head and tried to steer clear of the crowd, which grew more and more intrusive, until Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt stepped in and formed a protective wall around their teammates, assisted by agents from other units. They escorted Lisbon and Jane to their car and were thanked profusely by them.

That Bertram had been present at the service turned out to be a blessing in disguise because he caught the attention of the media immediately afterwards considering he'd just been fired, and so no one cared to bother the Janes or other guests.

* * *

The party at the _Fir Tree_ turned into a memorable event for everyone present. All the carnies had joined and quite a few CBI people, as well as the entire remaining Jane family. There were musicians, jugglers, magicians, and other artists amongst the variegated crowd, so there were little show acts going on everywhere. Alcohol was flowing freely, so spirits were high, but only in a cheery way.

Patrick had a blast and was the heart of the party. And those who'd only known him during recent years had never seen him so unguarded. After a few beers he lost his suit jacket, unbuttoned his vest, and rolled up his sleeves. Another beer later he let himself be dragged onto the impromptu stage that some of the carnies had set up with the pub owner's help, and jammed merrily away on a borrowed contrabass together with a bunch of other musicians. Even his grandmother joined in with her violin after some prodding from her other grandchildren and to the vocal cheers of the crowd, and more and more people started to dance.

Jonathan and Matthew enjoyed themselves as well and learnt quite a bit about both Alex' and Patrick's lives that day. They were amazed at the friendly welcome they got everywhere. Most of the carnies seemed to be unusually inclined to include everyone into the party, which led to some pretty strange conversations considering the normally very strained relationship between them and members of law enforcement.

Especially notable were the – futile - attempts of no less than five clowns to make Cho laugh and Danny Ruskin's desperate efforts to teach Rigsby how to pick pockets, which in the end succeeded, where the clowns had failed: it made Cho shake with laughter, doubtlessly helped along by a few drinks.

Other momentous events were the time when Samantha came over to Teresa and brought her a tequila with a friendly nod, and when Paul plucked up his courage and gave a little magic show of his own supported by several professional magicians who'd coached him beforehand (Jack Hellion amongst them), after Patrick had introduced his cousin to them.

* * *

All in all, everybody had a good time and most of the attendees ended up more or less squiffy. Sam and Harriet threw them all out at eleven pm, and considering their inebriated state, Patrick and Teresa took a cab home after loud and cheery goodbyes from the others.

Patrick was in fact completely wasted and was giggling the whole way home. She had a very hard time getting him inside because he was rather unsteady on his legs and insisted they should go and party some more.

She couldn't really be mad with him, though he was taxing her patience even more than usual. But this was the first time she'd seen him that way, and she was extremely glad to realize he was a very friendly and cute drunk, rather than a violent and rude one. That would have been a real problem for her considering her past experiences with a violent alcoholic for a father. Well, actually, she had seen him drunk once before, when they'd worked the Santa-Clause-killer-case. But he'd been much more in control back then. Still, he'd been just as sweet that time, so chances were that this was his usual behavior when inebriated.

At the moment Patrick was happily prattling away about this and that, waxing poetic about the prettiness of the most absurd things like street lights and picket fences, concluding with the verdict that his 'Tre-se-se-sa's' beauty still overshadowed everything else and that he was the 'luckiest-est' man in the world. One could hardly stay annoyed with a guy talking like that…

By the time she'd finally convinced him that the only other party tonight would be the one taking place inside their home, nearly twenty minutes had gone by since they'd left the cab only a block away. Though she wasn't really sober herself, she was in complete control of her faculties and managed to make some tea and got him to drink two mugs before he went out like a light on the couch. She took off his shoes, pushed him over, and pulled up his legs so he was at least reclining, put a huge glass of water and a bottle with pain relievers on the coffee table, covered him with a comforter, ruffled his hair lovingly, and gave him a goodnight kiss on his cheek, which made him smile in his sleep.

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are like an inebriated Jane - a sure way to put a smile on my face... and I won't even suffer from a hang-over (though Jane might...).  
**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: This is just a very short chapter, well not even a real one, but the only thing I've left that's edited at the moment. **

**I'm also using this opportunity to tell you that I'm still alive and haven't abandoned this fic. Please keep up the faith and your patience - I hope to get some new edits from my beta soon and I promise I'll update with a longer chapter then. Trust me that this fic will not be discontinued. I've already written the whole thing and I just have to tie up some loose ends in the epilogue before it's fully completed. I'm really sorry for the long wait.**

**Enjoy this little teaser in the meantime.**

* * *

**And because it's been so long since, here a little recap from the last chapter to help you remember where and how it ended:**

_At the moment Patrick was happily prattling away about this and that, waxing poetic about the prettiness of the most absurd things like street lights and picket fences, concluding with the verdict that his 'Tre-se-se-sa's' beauty still overshadowed everything else and that he was the 'luckiest-est' man in the world. One could hardly stay annoyed with a guy talking like that…_

_By the time she'd finally convinced him that the only other party tonight would be the one taking place inside their home, nearly twenty minutes had gone by since they'd left the cab only a block away. Though she wasn't really sober herself, she was in complete control of her faculties and managed to make some tea and got him to drink two mugs before he went out like a light on the couch. She took off his shoes, pushed him over, and pulled up his legs so he was at least reclining, put a huge glass of water and a bottle with pain relievers on the coffee table, covered him with a comforter, ruffled his hair lovingly, and gave him a goodnight kiss on his cheek, which made him smile in his sleep._

* * *

**==) O ( O ) O (==**

On Tuesday morning Patrick wasn't a happy camper. He was completely hung over when Teresa woke him at 7:15. He drained two glasses of water and swallowed the two pills she handed him, before he dared to open his bleary eyes and face the day with a groan.

"I don't really need to get up, do I?" he whined.

"Morning, Sunshine," she teased him. "Another glorious day is waiting just for you."

"You are a cruel woman, Lisbon. And shouldn't we give the rain a chance for a change?" he answered, propping himself up fully with a sigh. "Dark is definitely better if you ask me."

She snickered and sat down beside him, ruffling his sleep tousled hair, massaging his aching scalp. He moaned with pleasure. "Mmh, feels good," he said and lay down again with his head in her lap, giving her perfect access.

"Okay, imp. Here's the deal. I'll continue with this for a few more minutes if you promise to get up afterwards." He nodded. "We have to leave together today because my car's still at the _Fir Tree_, and besides, I don't think you're in any state to drive right now," she explained. "And we're a bit on the late side already."

"Can't you just ask Cho to pick you up?" Patrick suggested hopefully.

Teresa shook her head. "Oh no, Sunshine. You promised. And I'm sure you don't want to miss out on the show today. Remember: Bertram's been sacked. I'll even grant you one 'I told you so'. But now get a move on your delectable behind and take a shower. I'll make some breakfast. You'll feel better after eating something." To emphasize her point, she placed one resounding smack on his butt.

"Ow!" he cried out. "You're a horrible brute, Lisbon."

"And you're a whiny wimp, Jane. Up with you now," she ordered.

He got to his feet, rubbed his abused posterior, and stumbled upstairs grumbling under his breath in a mocking tone, "Yes, boss; at once, boss; as you wish, boss; at your service, boss; anything else, boss; your humble servant, boss; happy to oblige, boss; my pleasure, boss…"

Teresa on the other hand went to the kitchen with a smirk. He was definitely awake now, considering the increasing creativity of his ramblings…

* * *

**TBC**


	43. Chapter 43

**I've received some fresh edits from my dear beta 'firstdown' who I'd like to thank once again for her great work. **

**Now you'll get to enjoy a slightly longer chapter to make up for the longer than usual wait , though strictly speaking it was a very short one, as I posted my little appetizer just yesterday...  
**

**No warnings.**

* * *

It was a notably more alert consultant that came downstairs again half an hour later. Though he was still a bit bleary-eyed and pale, no one would suspect he'd been totally wasted eight hours ago because this was a rather normal look for him.

"Morning, Teresa," he greeted his lover and pecked her on the cheek. "Ah, you made grilled cheese sandwiches with bacon – no better remedy for a hangover than greasy food. You just have to stomach it first…"

He drained a mug of tea and poured himself another one before he took a bite gingerly. When nothing bad seemed to happen, he grinned and devoured the rest of his breakfast with gusto.

Lisbon just watched him with an indulgent smile while enjoying her third cup of coffee.

"So you're planning to drive Julie today?" he inquired after finishing his second mug of tea.

"I'll go easy on her – probably a lot easier than you do on a daily basis," she teased him.

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm not worried about her. More about you. We'll see if she likes you or not. Has a bit of a temper, that one. But so do you… Shall we?" he teased her back and got up from the barstool.

She rolled her eyes and went ahead of him. He led her out with his hand at the small of her back like he often did to her great enjoyment.

* * *

"Gimme your car keys, Jane," Lisbon demanded holding out her hand when they'd reached the parking lot.

"Maybe I should be the one to unlock her, you know, to placate her, make her more cooperative," he suggested with a grin.

"Keys, Jane," she insisted, tapping her foot impatiently. With a bit of reluctance he handed them over. "You're not fully comfortable with this, are you, Patrick?" she inquired carefully.

He looked a bit sheepish. "Just feels a bit strange. Sorry about the fuss. Go ahead."

She unlocked the door and got into the driver seat. Then she bent to the passenger side and opened the door for him. She had to adjust the position of the seat and all the while he told her in detail how to operate the old vehicle. "This is real driving, Lisbon," he explained. "Not that fully automatized nonsense you're used to."

Teresa rolled her eyes and ignored his ramblings. She had a certain interest in vintage cars herself and had in fact driven one or two at some point, so she was confident that this one wouldn't cause too big a challenge. She started the engine without a problem and was quite impressed: it purred like a kitten, obviously in very good condition. He certainly hadn't lied about his prowess as a mechanic.

"And you must get a feel for the clutch…" he prattled on but she'd already put the car into motion and left the parking lot. "Guess you have everything under control," he muttered slightly put out, realizing they were already on the road.

She snickered. "Seems like your old lady here likes me well enough, Jane," she teased him with a smug expression. "My compliments to the restorer – she's running as smooth as a baby's bottom," she added approvingly.

A sideways glance insured her of the proud look on his face and she could see tension leaving his body as he leant back in his seat for the first time since they'd gotten into the car.

* * *

Inside CBI Headquarters there was already high life going on that morning. With the news of their director being sacked and still without a new section head in place after Wainwright's death, things seemed to be in a state of mild chaos.

As the highest ranking agent, Lisbon took charge the moment she'd summed up the situation. This meant she had a more than busy day: she'd had to get a general idea of the state of affairs, sort through the piles and piles of paperwork that had accumulated, distribute new cases to the right teams, and talk with an endless seeming number of people from the media, the CBI, and the City Hall.

Fortunately her own team didn't catch a new case and so her agents tried their best to help with her tasks, presorting papers and organizing the run on her office. It was all very hectic and frustrating, especially because Jane wasn't the only one hung over that day…

Patrick made it his purpose (other than getting rid of nosy reporters on the phone) to keep everybody in good spirits as much as possible. He distributed coffee and snacks to Teresa, whenever he knew she needed it, got refreshments for the rest of the team, and even bought at least a hundred doughnuts, which he handed out to everybody in the building – from the guards outside, the administration staff, and all the lab technicians, to the agents of other units, the clerks, and the maintenance staff. Whenever asked about the occasion, he smiled mysteriously and called it a personal celebration.

A lot of people came by and thanked him for the great party at the _Fir Tree_ and told him how much they had enjoyed themselves, and Patrick in return expressed his sincere appreciation for their sympathy and support.

Teresa had the pleasure of witnessing maybe the most momentous acknowledgment, when she passed the break room on her way back from the toilet: a somewhat simple, but pretty blond woman, Barbara something, she couldn't quite remember right now, manning one of the phones on the switchboard, (in)famous for her monumental crush on Jane, stood red-faced in front of the consultant, who bore a charming, polite smile and neutral expression (at least to the uninformed observer – Lisbon saw the mirth in his eyes at the woman's discomfort). The poor girl seemed completely out of her depth and stammered desperately. Finally at his encouraging nod she gave her heart a push and squeaked out in a rush, "Oh, Patrick! It was the best funeral I've ever been to, honestly, it was so much fun!" before she realized what she'd just said, turned an even deeper shade of red, and sallied out of the room with a horror-stricken face and a screech.

When she'd stormed down the stairs and was out of hearing range, Patrick started to giggle, which in turn was the last straw for Teresa's self-control: her laugh was very un-Lisbon-like, drawing the attention of the whole bullpen to them. A moment later at least a dozen CBI agents stood and watched with great amusement, as their fearless leader and her aloof consultant roared with laughter. Nothing could have relieved the tension and stress of the day more effectively than that, and quite a few joined in with them, because their sounds of levity were so contagious.

* * *

The rest of a very long working day passed in a notably lighter mood after that. And when everybody but Jane and Lisbon had left, he did the unthinkable – he sat down in her visitor's chair and offered to help her with the paperwork. She looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost, but when she saw his serious face she shoved a pile of papers over to him. After a while she grabbed some of the work he'd already done and checked it over, only to realize with astonishment that he had actually really gotten down to business and that he could produce a very convincing imitation of both her handwriting and signature – the last part filling her with a slight sense of dread.

"Why the hell do you know how to copy my signature, Jane?" she asked in agitation.

"Why the hell not?" he retorted completely unconcerned, seizing another folder.

"Jane!"

He looked up at her and smirked. "Well, Agent Lisbon, it might surprise you, but in my former life I was a conman. And forgery is pretty much in the job description." He resumed his work.

"I don't like it," she grumbled. "If I ever find out that you've forged my signature on anything really important and serious…" she warned him in a huff.

"Would I do something like that?" he asked, brows raised, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, and just to make sure, we're on the same page: would a letter from you to the Department of Justice suggesting me for the job of CBI Director count as something really important and serious?" he added with a devious grin, drawing quotation marks into the air during the last part.

"You didn't, did you?" she inquired carefully, expression flabbergasted, not entirely sure whether he was having her on or not. One could never know with that man after all.

He chuckled merrily. "Had you there for a second, didn't I? Come on, Lisbon, it's a completely absurd idea. It would have been a bit amusing, I admit. But I wouldn't do that to you. If I had, I'm certain a whole bunch of white clad people would've come by within the hour to take you to the nearest closed ward." He finished another paper and signed it in her name with an extra flourish.

She growled and threw her pen at him, hitting his brow with precision. "Sometimes you really are completely insufferable, Jane. How I manage to actually stay sane in your presence is anyone's guess."

"Love you too, Lisbon," he replied happily, casting back the pen and striking her shoulder without even looking up. "Ready with this pile," he announced a moment later and shoved it over to her. "Anything else?"

With a deep and resigned sigh she passed him another bunch of folders. "Afraid, this is gonna be an all-nighter," she said tiredly.

"Maybe we should just call it a night and continue tomorrow. They-," he indicated all the folders on her desk, "-will still be here in a few hours. And you look really exhausted."

"If you don't want to help me anymore, you can just go home and laze around like usual, Jane. And let me work in peace," she barked at him. "I don't expect you to understand the importance of this. Though it's actually your fault, we're in this mess in the first place."

He was completely taken aback by this sudden outburst. "Sorry," he mumbled, grabbed his pile of work and left her office silently, slinking off with his tail between his legs. She didn't dignify his retreat with a single gaze.

* * *

An hour later he put a mug of fresh coffee in front of her and returned his finished work. "You're still here?" she asked perplexed. "I thought you went home."

He shook his head no, grabbed another pile of unfinished paperwork, and left her office again without a word. This gave her pause and she took a moment while drinking her coffee to go over their earlier conversation. Shame filled her when she remembered her hurtful words. He'd helped her for hours and had only expressed his worry about her health – a valid one, considering how she'd lost her temper with him over nothing. She knew she had a habit of becoming grumpy when exhausted, but he certainly hadn't deserved to be the outlet for her frustration.

With a sigh she got up from her chair, stretched, and went in search of him. He wasn't in the bullpen, so she made her way to the next probable destination: the attic. She climbed the stairs with heavy steps and realized, just how tired she really was. Maybe catching a few hours of sleep was a good idea after all.

She opened the sliding door to her lover's lair and as expected he sat at his makeshift desk, bent over her paperwork. "Hi, Lisbon," he greeted her warily without looking up. "Not quite finished with those," he pointed at the files in front of him. "Would have brought them down to you. There was no need to waste time coming up here."

She went over to his chair and stood behind him, one of her hands finding its way to the curls at his neck of its own volition, caressing the sensitive spot there. "I'm sorry, Patrick," she said quietly, bending over him and pressing her lips to the top of his head. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm just tired and grumpy and you were the only available target."

He shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, you're right. I AM kind of responsible for this mess. It's my fault Bertram lost his job after all."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh Patrick… You're really hopeless sometimes." She sighed. "I'm not mad at you for getting rid of Bertram. He had it coming." She pressed another kiss on his hair. "I was just venting my frustration, love. It had nothing to do with you. It's been a long day and from the looks of it, the next ones won't be much better." Another heavy sigh escaped her. "I think I really need a few hours of sleep, but it's already past two in the morning. With the drive to and fro, I would probably only catch less than three hours."

He turned around in his chair and pulled her on his lap. "May I suggest something or will you just bite my head off immediately?" he inquired carefully.

She looked a bit shamefaced at him and nodded. He gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear and continued, "I know you don't really like this place," he motioned with his head to indicate the attic, "But my little makeshift bed over there isn't as uncomfortable as it looks. Why don't you lie down for a while and catch some sleep? I'll head home and get you a change of clothes. You can shower at the gym and no one will be any the wiser you spent the night here."

She eyed his lair dubiously, but with longing as well. "You sure it's comfortable?"

"Give it a try." He got up with her in his arms and carried her over to the cot-like gadget and lowered her carefully down on it. He took off her shoes and moved her under the blanket, and by the time he'd covered her, she was already asleep.

* * *

He tiptoed out of his favorite hiding place, taking along the paperwork. The first task on his agenda was to leave the CBI and drive back to Lisbon's apartment – or theirs, as she insisted – where he picked out a fresh outfit for her to wear the next day. Though he knew she had some overnight stuff in her office, he opted to take along her body wash and shampoo as well as a big towel – the ones the gym provided were most certainly not up to standard as he knew from personal experience. At the last moment he remembered to pack some sanitary products also, because by his estimation and considering her snippy tone earlier tonight, his girlfriend had obviously reached that time of the month.

He took a quick shower himself and changed his shirt and underwear, preparing himself for a long night without sleep.

Back at the CBI, Patrick sneaked into the attic and placed her things, so she would see them when she woke up. Right now she was still sleeping like a log. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, programmed the alarm to go off at seven am and put it down on the floor beside her head, then he left again quietly.

His next stop was the break room, where he brewed a pot of tea, which he took along to her office. He sat down behind her desk with his usual cup filled with his favorite drink and started on her files. Three hours later he'd nearly finished all he felt comfortable with working on, so only half a dozen forms were left unattended in a neat, little pile. Completely exhausted his head had sunken down on the desk while he'd been filling out the last one, and he'd fallen asleep with his cheek on the last lines he'd written.

That's how Teresa found him at 7:15 am when she entered her office fresh out of the shower and carrying her dirty clothes, a wet towel, and his phone. She took in the scene and when she realized what he'd done, warmth blossomed in her heart. She was caught up with her work, felt relatively well rested, she was wearing clean clothes, and felt ready to face the new day in a good mood, all thanks to her thoughtful boyfriend.

She stepped closer and could see dark circles under his eyes. He was breathing evenly indicating deep sleep and she hated the thought of having to wake him. But soon the first people would come to work and it wouldn't do if they found him sleeping like that. On a couch wouldn't have been a problem – everybody working at the CBI was used to that sight for sure, but this situation would cause all kinds of rumors.

She caressed his cheek and whispered, "Patrick, love. You have to wake up."

He woke with a start, mumbled, "Wha.. wher…?" and sat up, wide eyes bleary, and she couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight of him: the part of his face which had been pressed to the paper on her desk was sporting 'her' mirror-inverted signature – talk about poetic justice, she thought.

She calmed herself down and said, "Sorry, imp. You can't continue to sleep at my desk like that. Move over to the couch. But if I may suggest something? You might want to go to the men's room and wash your face first." She couldn't quell another giggle.

"'kay," he mumbled, obviously far from being coherent, and staggered out of her office. She decided to follow him to make sure he actually ended up where he was supposed to go. To her relief he took the right direction and disappeared into the right lavatory. She counted to ten and on cue she heard an indignant, "Lisbon!?" from inside. A moment later a head appeared in the doorway and Jane asked, with a disgusted expression, "Why is your damn signature on my face?"

She smirked. "Actually, it's your signature, you measly little forger," she teased him.

It became very obvious that her lover wasn't fully alert yet. He looked at her without the slightest sign of comprehension and she decided to take pity on him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside the rest room, while she explained the situation to him in short, easy sentences. She pushed him down onto the closed lit of the toilet, wet a paper towel, and wiped his face clear of the offending letters.

When she was satisfied all traces were eliminated, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He got to his feet, opened his pants and stepped over to the urinal without a second thought. But as this wasn't the first time he'd done that in front of her, she wasn't sure whether this was another indication of his incoherent state or just him being himself. She still hoped that no one had arrived yet and especially no one with an urge to use the men's room, because this scene would have been very hard to explain.

She shook her head in slight amusement. "You do know where we are, don't you, Patrick?" she inquired carefully.

"Yes, of course. At the CBI," he answered nonchalantly. Then suddenly he blanched when realization finally hit him. His eyes widened and an "Oh!" escaped him. "Shit! God, I'm sorry. Did anyone, I mean, have I…"

"It's okay. Relax. No one's arrived yet," she reassured him. "How about you finish up here, so we can leave as soon as possible?" He nodded and did so.

* * *

They managed to get back to her office just in time before Van Pelt entered the bullpen. With incredible presence of mind for his sleep deprived brain, he grabbed Teresa's used clothes and towel and managed to hide them from sight just before the young woman came in. "Hi Boss, Jane. You're already here? I thought I'd come by a bit earlier and take over some of that paperwork of yours. You seemed to nearly drown in it yesterday."

"Thanks, Grace. That's very thoughtful. But I'm actually almost finished with it," Lisbon told her.

"Finished? But that's impossible! It was so much and, and…" the redhead rambled.

Teresa nodded and interrupted her, "Yes, you're right. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't have been able to, but, believe it or not, I had help." She cast a pointed look in Jane's direction.

Grace squealed. "He actually helped you? With paperwork?"

"Yes, hard to believe, isn't it?" Lisbon replied.

Patrick pulled a face. "Now I'm truly insulted. You sound as if I've never done any useful work around here…"

Both women sent him stern looks.

"Well, okay. So I'm not really into this tedious, boring stuff you're all so very fond of, but just because I do so lying down doesn't mean I'm not pulling my weight around here," he said, and Teresa was pretty sure he was honestly indignant.

Grace beat her to answering. "Sure, Jane. So it's only a coincidence that each and every time there's some actual work to do, you end up snoring on your couch while everybody else is busy…" the young redhead teased him.

Lisbon was convinced now that Patrick was truly affected by their accusations, but on the outside he didn't give away much of it. "Well, Grace, why would I do the tedious work of mere mortals when I can put my superior powers to much better use during sleep? Let's face it: I'm more effective asleep than you could ever wish for being even wide awake," he said snootily and left the office.

"Seems like you got to him, Grace," Teresa told the younger woman.

"But I wasn't serious." The younger woman looked slightly alarmed. "I know he's thinking or listening attentively, not sleeping most of the time he spends on that couch. And it would be a waste of resources to make him do our jobs. He isn't even trained for it. Do you really think I offended him, boss?" the poor woman asked anxiously. "I mean, he must know that we appreciate his work. He probably studies case files more than anyone else. He always memorizes all the facts, or he wouldn't be able to figure things out. Guess he does a lot of that during sleepless nights or something."

Lisbon smiled at her soothingly. "Don't worry, Van Pelt. This is more my fault anyway. And he's not fully awake either. I'll let you in on a secret: he spent the whole night filling forms for me, so I could catch some sleep. I found him in a deep slumber with his head on my desk not even thirty minutes ago and had to wake him," she explained with a happy smile.

"He did that for you? How sweet! And I called him lazy. Poor guy," Van Pelt said, emphatic as usual.

"It's okay, Grace. I'll go find him and treat him to some breakfast. Eggs maybe? I'm sure that'll pacify him."

Her younger colleague left her office with a hesitant nod. Lisbon picked up her phone to call her consultant only to realize that his cell phone still rested on her desk, were she'd put it before waking him. She sighed. "Damn, guess I have to find him the hard way."

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are like a supportive Jane: sweet and very much appreciated... ;-)**


	44. Chapter 44

**Here's another longer than usual chapter, because I'll be away for the weekend and won't be able to update until maybe Tuesday next week.**

**Warning: This one's a bit angsty as the plot thickens.**

* * *

She took her jacket, wallet, his phone, and his car keys, which also lay on her desk. At least he couldn't have gone far without his car. That made her remember that her own vehicle was still parked in front of the _Fir Tree_. She needed to get it back as soon as possible. Maybe they could combine the necessary with the pleasant and fetch it on their way to breakfast?

First things first though, she thought, while making her way up to the attic once more. She had to find him before she could apologize and treat him to some eggs and tea. Fortunately he was up there sitting at his makeshift desk. She would have hated to search the whole building for him.

"Here you are. What are you doing?" she asked from the door.

"Might surprise you, but I'm working," he answered acidly without looking up from whatever he was doing.

She walked over to him and was eerily reminded of a very similar scene from earlier this morning. Even the reason she was about to apologize for was nearly identical, which wouldn't make the situation any easier, because he had every right to doubt her sincerity: just six hours ago she'd told him that she didn't mean it when she'd called him lazy just to accuse him practically of the same thing again. And the truth was, that she really and honestly never thought of him as lazy. He didn't work in the way regular people did, but she was sure that if one took the time and followed him around to count the hours he worked, they would at least rival hers. Grace was right. He spent a lot of his sleepless nights going over files and sorting through clues. He almost always took several folders home with him so he could occupy himself during the night.

She stopped right behind him and put her arms around his chest. It was a bit awkward, because the backrest of his chair got in the way, but she wanted to hold him somehow, and this seemed like the only viable solution right now.

"What are you doing, Lisbon?" he asked, obviously caught by surprise. "You're making it very difficult for me to continue."

She bent forward and pecked his cheek. "You're not supposed to either, Patrick."

He removed her arms and engrossed himself in his work again.

"Are you gonna ignore me?" she inquired, astonished by his behavior, even slightly hurt that he'd pushed her away like that.

"If this is some kind of test or trap or something – I'm not gonna fall for it, Lisbon," he replied moodily.

She was really taken aback now. "What do you mean, a test or trap? I don't understand."

He sighed heavily. "Don't play dumb, Lisbon. You want to lure me away from my work, so you can accuse me of neglecting my duties afterwards. Very clever, but you won't succeed."

She stared at him with open-mouthed shock, which he didn't see, because he was diligently scribbling in a notebook. "You don't honestly think I would do something like that, Patrick? That… It would be beyond mean. How can you, I mean, I would never…

"Of course you wouldn't," he said turning around with his chair and looking up at her astonished face with a gleeful smirk, that looked slightly deranged to her. "Gotcha!"

"You miserable jerk! You played me!"

He grinned deviously. "Now, Lisbon, really. Calling me names? And here I thought you'd actually come to me with the intention to apologize, maybe even offer reparations like buying me breakfast." He watched her wince a little. "Ah, yes. Breakfast it was. What a lovely idea. Well, I would be delighted to have breakfast with you." His smile didn't reach his eyes and the words seemed forced.

She shook her head in irritation. "You really are the most insufferable, annoying person I have the misfortune of knowing, Jane. I don't know why I put up with you, honestly. And to think that I actually felt bad about accusing you of being lazy! I don't know why I even bother." She poked his chest with her index finger. "I should have figured that your ego is at least three sizes too big for it to feel any indignation at being falsely accused."

He snorted, caught her wayward finger, before it could poke him again and brought her hand up to his lips, but at the last moment he stopped himself from kissing it and released it as if it was poison. "Nah, Lisbon. You got it all wrong. It's not about my ego, which is only in proportion with my overall brilliance by the way." He flashed her another false grin that alarmed her. "No. The issue at hand is that you can't accuse me of working too little. You know the details of my contract. Not a word about working hours in it. So, no basis for you to accuse me of anything, even if I only rendered my services for - say – a measly hour each month. Nice loophole, right?" He snickered without humor at her perplexed face, though he didn't know that her confusion wasn't caused by his words but rather by his weird behavior. "Well, one hour would be appropriate, I think, considering the compensation I get. It would be round about the fee I asked for in my former occupation."

"You used to take over $1000 for an hour?" was the only thing she managed to get out, hoping to make him divulge what had gotten into him.

"What can I say? Phone calls to the other side are notoriously expensive," he joked with a glint in his eyes that was certainly not caused by amusement.

Her astonishment grew another notch. Normally he didn't make fun of his disreputable past like that, at least not in her company. He felt too much shame about the fact that he'd conned gullible people out of their money. He was obviously trying to shock or irritate her into leaving. It only increased her resolve to stay however…

"Now what about breakfast, Lisbon? You're buying, I hope. I only work one hour a month after all. Not enough to get by on, as you just recently pointed out to me." He sneered.

This confirmed her suspicions. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. "Patrick, what the hell are you playing at? Are you trying to poleax me or something? You're not normally so callous about this." She eyed him warily.

He shrugged. "Okay, so no breakfast. No problem." He turned his chair around again and bent down over his whatever-kind-of-work and ignored her presence.

Now she got really worried. His behavior was completely absurd and didn't make the slightest sense to her. She hunkered down beside his chair and tried to catch his eyes. One of her hands settled on his thigh and started to caress him. "Patrick, please! What's the matter with you? You're not acting like yourself," she asked imploringly. "I don't understand your behavior right now."

He hadn't called her Teresa a single time since she'd arrived, only Lisbon. He'd pushed her away and had acted more than weird. What had happened?

"I suggest, you get back to work, Agent Lisbon. Those lovely forms on your desk won't file themselves. And as you can see, I'm quite busy. So, if you would excuse me?" He shoved her hand away from his leg.

* * *

Wrong move! Now she was getting really angry and desperate in her disquiet. She grabbed his chair and swung it around forcefully, so he had to face her. "Stop this rubbish at once, Jane, or I swear, I'll kick your ass! What's wrong with you? Talk!"

He just shrugged again and made to turn away, but not before she'd seen a glint of fear in his eyes. She didn't know whether it was aimed at her or at whatever had gotten into him, but she'd seen it. Just like she had assumed: he was not cool and collected or willfully derisive. Something was wrong here, very wrong.

"Well, if you won't talk, you don't leave my with any other choice." With that, she tackled him out of his chair and onto the floor, rolled him to his stomach and had him in handcuffs only seconds later. Everything happened so fast, he barely realized what she'd done until she ordered him to get up and move over to his cot.

"Leave me alone, Lisbon, please!" he cried out. "Don't do this. This is a terrible mistake, please. Let me go and just leave, please," he begged sitting on the edge of his improvised bed with terror in his eyes, which only increased her worry.

She looked at him with all her love for him shining from her face. "I can't do that. Something is terribly wrong here and I'll find out what it is – one way or another. You can either trust me with the truth voluntarily, or I'll force it out of you. It's your choice, Patrick. Either way I won't let this go. Something has happened and I won't allow you to shut me out. I love you and I'll be right by your side, no matter what."

Watching his face during her little speech had been a revealing but also terrifying experience. He was desperate and his despair had seemed to grow with every word, she'd said. "Please, Teresa, please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper and full of obvious anguish.

She yearned to hold him and stepped closer, but he recoiled as much as possible in his position. "Tell me what's wrong, Patrick. We'll face it together, no matter what." She tried to reassure him.

"No, no, no," he mumbled, shaking his head violently.

She sighed and felt helpless and frustrated. "I won't leave this be, love. You know that. So why don't you save us both a lot of additional stress and just come clean?"

"I can't," he whispered, resigned and desperate. "I have to try at least," he added even quieter.

With a sudden hunch she stepped away from him and over to his desk. He had been working there when she came in. So maybe she would find her answers there. The moment her intentions became clear, Patrick jumped up and blocked her way, or attempted to. "I'll cuff you to the chair if necessary, Jane. Or I could call for back up," she warned him, her expression showing her determination.

That's when the fight finally left him. His shoulders dropped and he padded back to the cot with tears running silently down his face. It nearly broke her resolve, but this was important. She could comfort him later. First she had to find out what had turned him into such a mess in the first place.

She only had to remove his notebook and a folder to find what she'd been looking for: an innocent looking sheet of paper at first glance but in reality a horrible message, printed in a typeface she was getting all too familiar with.

* * *

My dear Patrick,

In my incredible generosity I've granted you some weeks of happiness. Well, unfortunately for you, time's up now. As I had to realize lately, your arrogance is still your greatest weakness and that can't be left unpunished. But I'll be bountiful to honor our long-standing friendship: if you give up your little green-eyed fling, I might decide to let her live. If not… well, you know the ropes, my dear. I'm sure she'll be a real treat - she smells like cinnamon and wild berries in her sleep…

Sincerely yours,

RJ

Sweet babe in thy face, / Holy image I can trace. / Sweet babe once like thee. / Thy maker lay and wept for me.

* * *

Her hands had started to shake and when she met her lover's eyes, she saw her own terror mirrored in his. She stumbled over to him and only when his arms engulfed her did she realize that he'd somehow managed to get out of the handcuffs. They clung to each other. "He was here last night. He was here while I slept," she whispered hauntingly against Patrick's chest.

He nodded, his whole body shaking like a leaf in a tornado. "Or at least one of his disciples," he pressed out. "Two times. He was here twice. The letter… he watched you sleep first, before he wrote the letter. How else could he have known?"

"Where did you find the letter, Patrick?" she asked hesitantly, but with a bit more control. She released him so she could collect herself. She couldn't fall apart now. She had to be strong for the both of them because he was paralyzed with terror. She couldn't blame him of course, but it was the reality of the matter.

"On the pillow," he provided quietly.

She fished her phone out of her pocket and called Van Pelt, though he tried to protest the whole time. "Shut up! We'll do this my way. You're not thinking straight right now."

The other woman took the phone almost immediately. "Hi, boss. Found Jane?"

"Grace, listen and listen carefully. I don't know if my phone is clean, or yours for that matter, so we have to act very fast. Go and get the films from the surveillance camera at the staircase leading up to the attic. Timeframe between two and eight am today. Bring them and your laptop up here afterwards and carry your weapon. Don't ask any questions right now, just go and do it, understood?"

"Yes boss, I'm on it," the young agent agreed, already on the move. To her credit, she just followed orders without a second thought. This was urgent and answers could wait.

Then Lisbon made another call. "Cho? Where are you? Already at work, good. Listen: I'm up in the attic with Jane. I need you to get an evidence kit and the other usual equipment to examine a crime scene. Come up here then, carry your weapon, and no questions, okay?"

"You won't find anything," Jane told her quietly, voice hollow.

"We'll see. He's made mistakes before." She took him in. He was pale and looked twenty years older than an hour ago. His eyes were sadder than she had ever seen them, silent tears were running out of them without him realizing. There was nothing left of his masks right now. He was raw with terror and pain. "Patrick," she addressed him warmly, "I'm here and I'm alive. Nothing will happen to me."

* * *

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Cho announced his arrival. Lisbon called him in and the fact that her lover didn't even make the slightest attempt to hide his tears or emotions in front of their colleague told her more about his state than she wanted to know. He seemed to have given up any pretense of strength. He'd given in to his innermost fears instead.

Cho took one look at the pair in the dusty space and knew this was Red John related and that it couldn't be good. At least he didn't see a dead body anywhere, which had been his greatest fear after Lisbon's weird call. But to see Jane in such a state was outright frightening. And that made him realize what this was about: That bastard was threatening Lisbon. That was the only logical explanation, the only thing that would turn the blond man from the most composed individual he knew into this complete mess. If anyone had ever had any doubts about the depths of Jane's feelings for her, one look at him now would remove every single one of them.

"Boss?" he asked, waiting for instruction or information.

"Ah, Cho. Good. You have everything I asked for?"

"Yes."

"There's a letter on the table. Read it and check it for prints. Jane's will be on it, and mine, but maybe we'll find something else. I know we're not really the experts, but I don't want to involve anyone else but the team right now. And hand me that other case. I'll check the room for other traces," Teresa ordered.

Cho nodded. He handed her the equipment he'd brought and walked over to the makeshift table. When he'd read the short but frightening message, a sense of panic took hold of him for a moment before he managed to compose himself. No wonder Jane was in such a state. This was probably like all his worst nightmares coming true.

Both agents got to work, while their almost catatonic consultant seemed to be in a world of his own. That wasn't entirely true, however. He did follow their conversation, but first and foremost his formidable brain was working on overdrive, trying to figure out why this message had appeared right here and now, and what it meant – apart from the obvious threat it contained.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later the rest of the team arrived. Van Pelt had picked Rigsby up in the bullpen on her way up to the attic, figuring he could be useful to whatever was going on. He was carrying his own laptop.

"Did you get it?" Lisbon asked anxiously the moment she caught sight of the redhead.

"Yes, Boss. And I got something else as well. While I was down in technical, Calvin Morris from the lab stopped me. Told me, he'd just sent me an e-mail with the results of you-know-what. Said, that the director had prohibited them from continuing the analysis, but since he isn't in office anymore and it's for Jane, they decided to do it anyway. You know, Morris was at the funeral and the party. He's carried a torch for Jane ever since he proved his brother's girlfriend innocent three years ago," she explained hastily. She took a good look around. "What's happened anyway?"

Suddenly Patrick jumped up from the cot. "I'm such an idiot! God, how could I have been so blind? Stupid, stupid!" he exclaimed, kicking the makeshift bed angrily.

Lisbon was by his side immediately. "Patrick, calm down," she ordered and put a comforting hand on his arm.

"But Lisbon. It's so clear now. How the hell could I be so damn stupid? I might have been able to save lives if I hadn't been so stupid. And now he's even threatening you. So much for being smart." He snorted derisively. "I'm such an idiot."

"Could you stop chastising yourself for a second and explain yourself instead?"

But Jane was deep in thought once again. He mumbled, but only snatches were understandable, such as, "He was there! Of course, he was there", "Fool!", "Arrogant, yes", "After the first time, of course!" He shook his head.

"Patrick Alexander Jane!" Lisbon addressed him vigorously. "Talk to us. What have you just figured out?" She shook him a little, to get him out of his stupor.

It got his attention. He blinked a few times and then he looked at her. For the first time since this whole mess had started she saw something other than fear and anguish in his eyes. He pulled her into a forceful hug. "I know who he is," he whispered. "Red John. I know who he is, Lisbon."

"You think you know who Red John is?" she asked disbelievingly. "All of a sudden?"

"No, Lisbon. I KNOW who he is. It all makes sense now," Jane replied triumphantly, his demeanor a bit too maniacal for her taste.

She released him and cast him a serious look. "Not to be a spoil-sport, but you've thought so before, with Timothy Carter," she said a bit skeptical.

"Well, doesn't matter. We have the proof now anyway. Grace, get a move, set up your laptop," he ordered frantically.

"Jane, stop this. First, you'll tell us what you've figured out," Teresa told him, worry in her eyes.

"Nope," he answered. "You'll get your real proof first. You won't believe me anyway, without it," he said defiantly.

"Patrick, please. Be reasonable. This is not the time to play mind games with us. We need to know what you've found out." She tried to get through to him.

That's when Rigsby chimed in, "Well, it would actually help a lot if we knew what's going on. I have no idea why we're even up here."

Lisbon sighed. "Sorry, you're right. Cho, fill them in, Van Pelt, tell the boys about the testing. And you, Jane, are going to sit down with me and talk. I've had it with your nonsense. Don't you think that this situation is stressful enough for me as well?" Her eyes were spitting fire at the last part.

She grabbed his arm, pulled him down on the cot again, and sat down beside him. "Ah, but Lisbon, why would I want to spoil the surprise for you? You'll find out soon enough." Jane tried to joke, grinning like a loon, which wasn't too far off his actual state of mind.

But Teresa had reached the end of her patience. She knew Patrick wasn't in any way thinking and acting rationally right now, and he tended to get extra annoying in such a state, but this was too much even for her tolerance. In addition, the overwhelming anxiety she'd barely managed to keep in check at the thought of a serial killer having watched her sleep last night, caught up with her as well at that moment.

And so a loud smack suddenly echoed through the dusty space, followed by an indignant "Ouch!"

* * *

The three other agents turned their heads in the direction of the bed and saw their bewildered consultant sporting a clearly visible red imprint of a small hand on his cheek.

"Are you back with us again now and willing to speak?" Lisbon asked him grumpily.

"You hit me," he stated sadly. "Why did you hit me?"

"To get your attention, Patrick. You were somewhere else entirely and you were being very annoying," she explained, feeling bad about her impulsive action already.

"That was very harsh, boss," Cho said to the nods of his two colleagues. "I'm not one to meddle in others' affairs, but this isn't right, Teresa. He's annoying all the time. You've never hit him before. And it's not right."

Jane jumped up from the cot. "You're defending me?" he asked with total astonishment, his own indignation forgotten, ready to jump to his lover's defense. "But I _was_ really annoying. Lisbon had every right to…"

Cho interrupted him. "No, she didn't, Jane. This is stressful for all of us and Agent Lisbon didn't act professionally. As her second in command and as both your and her friend I had to point that out. Now, let's get back to work." Locking eyes with the blond man he added, "And it might be a good idea if you actually shared your new findings with us, now we're all up to speed on the rest of the information."

Teresa had gotten up from the cot as well by now. She felt a deep sense of shame being chastised like that by her colleague. But Cho was right. She had lost her control and she'd hurt the man she loved, who incidentally was in a very peculiar mental state right now due to recent events. She looked at her three agents and said, "I apologize. Cho's right. I didn't handle the situation appropriately. I would understand if you took this to our superiors. It was totally uncalled for."

"But Lisbon, I…" Jane tried to protest.

"No, Patrick, there is no excuse for it." She stepped close to him and covered his cheeks with her hands, carefully caressing the one still showing a red mark. "I'm sorry, love. I know you were stressed and acting like a jerk because of that. Hell, it's perfectly understandable all things considered. Please forgive me."

He locked eyes with her. "I'm not angry, Teresa. There's nothing to forgive. And heaven knows you have the same excuse to act irrationally. It's not every day a serial killer threatens your life after all." He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers, for once ignoring her wishes about PDAs in front of the team and at work. He felt they both needed this connection right now. He was proven correct when he sensed her deepening the kiss almost desperately. For a few moments they both forgot the outside world – and the nearly sputtering Rigsby in it – and devoured each other with abandon. It was like reassuring each other, confirming that they were still here, together, and that nothing could stop them. "I love you, Teresa," he said, voice full of emotion, after breaking a kiss that had been on the verge of getting out of hand.

"I love you too, Patrick," she answered with just as much emotion behind it.

Van Pelt sighed dreamily, Rigsby looked totally perturbed, and Cho couldn't quell a satisfied, little smile. "We should probably get back to the matter at hand, boss, as much as we enjoyed this little show," the latter deadpanned.

Lisbon turned a bright shade of red, just now remembering they had an audience. "I… that would be best." Looking awfully embarrassed she added, "Sorry, that was completely unprofessional again."

"It's okay, boss. It's good to see how much you love each other. It was really romantic," her youngest team member tried to reassure her eagerly with a happy smile, but it only made Teresa's blush increase in intensity.

Seeing that his girlfriend was too out of her depth to act at the moment, Jane took charge of the situation. He was in a peculiar mood right now, hovering between complete panic and total elation at the fact that he'd finally figured out Red John's identity. "Okay, guys. Here's how we're gonna do this. Grace, you set up your computer. Open the results you got and start matching them with the CBI database. If I'm right with my conclusions, which is a given of course, you should get a result there." Van Pelt nodded and got to work at once not bothered in the least by him giving out orders. "Rigsby, Cho? Take the other laptop and go over the footage from the surveillance camera. Maybe that way we'll get a visual match to the DNA, at least if he did his dirty work in person. I have my doubts, but who knows? Considering who he is, he would at least have had no trouble getting into the building."

The two males complied as well, mostly because his orders made perfect sense but also because they trusted him.

"Are you ordering around my team, Jane?" Lisbon asked after regaining her poise. The last few minutes just watching what was going on around her had done wonders to her overall state. Her eyes were glinting with mirth.

"Yep. They are very well trained. My compliments, Agent Lisbon," Patrick teased her. "I thought I would give them something to do while we make out on the bed," he added with a cheeky grin after picking up on her lightened mood.

They heard Rigsby choking down a stricken groan and snickered. She winked and said, "I think not, Mr. Jane. You still have some explaining to do. Why don't we sit down?"

They retook their seats on the cot and she prompted him with a grim look. "Out with it now! Who is Red John?"

* * *

**TBC**

**Reviews are like cliffhangers: they always make you wish for more... ;-)**


	45. Chapter 45

**The wait has come to an end: you'll find out who the Red John of this fic is. I hope you can follow my/Jane's conclusions...**

** No warnings.**

* * *

Patrick nodded. "Okay. But hear me out before you start protesting – and you will, I assure you. Can you promise me that?" She nodded her consent and he went on. "Red John is none other than our beloved ex-director Gale Bertram."

Four loud gasps could be heard in the small space. Lisbon opened her mouth, but he raised his hand and put a finger on her lips. "You promised to let me explain, Teresa." She sighed and nodded again. "It's all very plain to see, once you've figured it out. Let me start at the beginning, well not really the beginning, but the first time I actually met him. Red John, that is."

Lisbon cast him an impatient look and he realized he was rambling. "Sorry, I'll try to be concise. Anyway, when I encountered him in that abandoned hotel, he recited a Blake poem, as you all know. First clue. Bertram shows up as the new director only a short time later and – as Teresa witnessed – he recited a verse from a Blake-poem right after it became clear that Hightower, his scapegoat, had been firmly established as the Johnson-killer. And today? Another Blake, and one taken from another Cradle-song, just like the first one Bertram quoted in front of Lisbon."

He let this first bomb sink in before he continued. "Coincidence? I don't think so. Back at the time when he recited that verse after Madeleine's escape he didn't know that I was aware of the connection between him and Todd Johnson. Unfortunately, yours truly hadn't shared that little tidbit about the Blake-Tyger-poem with anyone yet – a stupid oversight on my part, I have to admit." He looked very sheepish and apologetic.

"So at the time Lisbon couldn't see the significance of that second Blake-rendition. Maybe I would've been more suspicious of Bertram, if I had known about the second poem earlier?" He shrugged. "But onwards. During our operation to expose the real Todd Johnson killer, we actually had him – can you imagine?"

He cast them all pointed looks. "But unfortunately for us, Red John hadn't been acting on his own - O'Laughlin and Bertram were both on LaRoche's suspect list for a reason. Both had cause and opportunity to torch Johnson. They might've even done the deed together. And what a brilliant move – got me off track like a charm. Never even crossed my mind that two people could've been involved." He paused and took a deep breath, shaking his head.

"And do you remember when the bastard personally asked us to deal with that so called bomb-robbery situation before it was clear it was even murder? He got us involved at a point where everybody assumed it was essentially a closed case with the perp blowing himself up at that gas station. He wanted us to look into it - allegedly of all things for reasons concerning-" he painted quotation marks in the air, "-public relations." He snorted. "Instead he had us actually assisting in his own search for Hightower's whereabouts. And the bastard is responsible for Lisbon ending up with that bomb belt." He shook his head again in remembered panic.

"But back to our plan to exonerate Hightower. After contacting Craig and comparing their notes pertaining the hotel room numbers, Bertram knows, we're at least somewhat suspicious of him. He sends the hitman, well, hitwoman, I guess, to his own hotel room and orders her to take along a rope, to implicate O'Laughlin if necessary but primarily to confuse us, which he – unfortunately – did and quite spectacularly so."

A deep sigh escaped him and Teresa took hold of one of his restless hands. "When it becomes clear that he won't get to Madeleine at the hotel that night – not that he truly expected to - he can rightly assume that with the course of events at Pacific Palms, O'Laughlin would be beyond suspicion. And as a matter of fact: Van Pelt takes him to Hightower's true hiding place – exactly the way Red John had hoped for."

Jane took another deep breath, all the other occupants in the room following his explanation attentively and with growing horror. "Bertram himself is with me, knowing fully well that Hightower won't show up at the mall, but uses this as a chance to mislead me even further. And he succeeds, because I foolishly assumed that he was merely a confederate, not the bastard himself. But he knows that we are distrustful of him – we found the killer in his room after all. It's therefore he mentions a rope to plant the suggestion of Craig actually being the 'real suspect' in my mind, which in turn makes himself appear innocent. And it works like a charm."

Lisbon interrupted him at that point. His explanations seemed very plausible so far, but the sheer speed with which he connected the dots was a real challenge to follow. "What do you mean, he mentioned a rope? Why would he mention the rope the killer carried with her? Didn't that make you suspicious of him?"

"No, actually. It wasn't as plain as that. On the contrary, it was the picture perfect classic method of planting a suggestion. He said something along the lines of him being at the end of his rope. You've all seen me doing very similar things dozens of times. It's very effective. And I was too wrapped up in my own scheme to recognize it."

Jane shook his head at his own stupidity. "Anyway. This way he makes sure, I figure out who the 'real' mole is, while he's suddenly above suspicion. Perfect double-double-crossing, I have to give him that. His timing was a bit off, though." He grins with a bit of satisfaction at his enemy's obvious miscalculation. "He didn't give O'Laughlin enough time to execute Hightower, Van Pelt, and Lisbon – which must have been the plan. So I managed to warn you just in time."

He sighed heavily, first now fully realizing how close he'd come to losing both Teresa and Grace that day. His urge to kiss his lover got the better of him and he pressed his lips to hers fervently for a moment before he was able to continue. "And in another brilliant move Bertram had placed Timothy Carter at the mall beforehand - the very person who operated as his go-between with Craig - thus giving me the would-be real Red John. I mean, how else could Carter have known to be at the mall if not from Bertram? We didn't tell anyone else."

He shook his head once again. "I can't believe I didn't realize this before. The whole situation at the mall only makes sense with Bertram being Red John or at least one of his disciples. There's just one other way Red John could've possibly known about our operation at the mall with O'Laughlin as the only mole: namely if Grace had told Craig about that part of the plan as well. As far as I know that's not the case." He paused to contemplate things for a moment and to take in Van Pelt's affirmative nodd, before he continued. "They must have had some sort of communication device – Carter and Bertram, I mean. That security guy, Ron Deutsch, who cleared Carter of his gun and phone must have removed that as well." He stopped his tale at that point.

* * *

"This is… I mean… it…" Lisbon stammered.

"That's not the whole proof, Teresa. I'm not finished. But how far are you with the database, Grace?"

"I'm on it. Good news is, Bertram's DNA is actually part of it. I hoped so because it is mandatory for all CBI employees since the, well, the Johnson-case actually. But considering his connections…" Van Pelt replied.

"Ah, but he is so confident he won't ever leave any traces or make any mistakes, he didn't bother to risk any inquiries over something like that," Jane explained. "Okay, on we go. So he has us all fooled with Carter. But he didn't expect me to get out of jail so fast. He even asked Ardiles to go hard on me during the trial, as our beloved ADA has pointed out to me on several occasions. Still didn't work because, as we all know, I was found not guilty."

He grinned before turning serious again. "Which means, he himself has to punish me for killing one of his minions. So he tries to take away the most important person in my life and plans to fire Teresa, placing me with Ray Haffner's team. Once again he didn't fully anticipate my actions-", Jane had to smirk once more, "-and suddenly he's confronted with the choice of either giving up his close game and firing me as well, or reinstating Lisbon. He opts for the latter, but uses the opportunity to humiliate me as punishment for my arrogance… blablabla."

He paused at the confusion on three faces. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about. Well, he forced me to sign a new contract in exchange for Lisbon's job. It's kind of, well, a tad unfair." Both Teresa and Cho snorted at that.

"Okay, it's a bit of a farce. Anyway, not important right now. So he's taught me another lesson in humbleness, but soon enough he realizes that I know that Carter wasn't Red John. And in another brilliant move he involves the FBI and Agent Darcy to mislead both us and the Feds, who've also taken a greater interest in the case, which isn't too surprising considering one of their own was revealed as a confederate of Red John."

He took another break to collect his thoughts. "Well, the rest until after Vegas should be rather obvious. Bertram offers me a deal through Lorelei, I decline, well in a manner of speaking anyway, and then he lets the Feds take hold of his trollop while pretending to support us, knowing full well that the only one who could've possibly turned her was me."

Another sigh later he continued, "But then something unpredictable occurs: Alex attacks me and one of Red John's moles in SacPD happens to be one of the first ones at the scene. He reports to him that I was injured with a knife by my own father and that I and Lisbon seem to have grown even closer."

He swallowed audibly and Teresa squeezed his hand. "He finds out that Alex will cause a lot of trouble and he's appalled at the audacity of that unworthy man to touch me with a knife – like another Jane spiting him. So he decides to punish Alex personally. It's sloppy work because he didn't have enough time to plan ahead, and the unthinkable happens: my father pulls out some hairs during the struggle for his life without Red John realizing it." A small smile appeared on his face.

"He doesn't have much time, maybe was disturbed even, so he has to leave the scene prematurely without taking his usual precautions. And another thing happens that is to his disadvantage: his disciple Keen basks in his new importance and wants more attention. And Red John makes another mistake and sends the weak-minded officer to the crime scene to check it over for any plunders. But Keen gets caught and he actually gives Bertram away, only we didn't understand it."

* * *

At this point Patrick shook his head in dismay. "It was so obvious, but I didn't get it until earlier when Grace mentioned Bertram wasn't in office anymore. That's when I knew! God, how could we've been so stupid!" He groaned and tore his hair.

Lisbon got a bit irritated at that. "Well, Jane, I'm afraid we other mere mortals here still don't get it. Keen didn't give us anything, did he?"

"Oh yes, he did. That's why he clammed up afterwards. And it was only a matter of time, before he would've broken completely. Bertram must have realized it too, probably read the protocol from that interview and decided to act. That's why he transferred Keen on Friday. It made it a whole lot easier to kill him. Even as the director of the CBI he would've taken a great risk getting through all the security Lisbon installed." He grinned and looked at his lover with pride.

"You've still not told us how Keen gave him away. We all read the protocol and we didn't find anything in it," Rigsby chimed in with impatience. "Come on, tell us, Jane. We're dying here."

Patrick sat up straighter and smirked. "What? You still haven't figured it out? I thought with all the additional information I gave you..."

Teresa slapped his arm lightly without any protests from the others this time. "If you want our adulation for your brilliance, forget it. Just spit it out, Jane," she grumbled.

"Alright, alright. No need for violence. Well, Keen said, and I quote him here, 'He's your boss too, Patrick. And her's as well'. The last part was aimed at Lisbon of course, as you all know." His teammates made sounds of sudden comprehension. "Yeah, I know, it's incredible, how we could've missed this. But I never bothered to take him literally. I automatically assumed he was talking about Red John dictating our lives."

Teresa suddenly blanched. "Oh my god! Bertram is really Red John." She'd only now fully realized what Patrick had revealed. But his reasoning was sound. It truly made sense. She got up and started to pace.

"Yes, he is. And he's mightily pissed, because I cost him his job. That's why he made his move last night, and I'm just so, so glad he didn't hurt you, Teresa." Patrick had turned very serious and his eyes expressed the shear terror he felt at the thought of what could have happened to the woman he loved only hours ago. He left his seat on the cot as well and stepped in her way. Then he pulled her close and latched onto her as if she was a lifeline.

"I've got a match," Van Pelt announced at that moment. "It's true," she whispered. "It's really true."

* * *

**TBC**

**I'd really like to hear your opinions. Did the conclusions convince you? I'm not claiming that this is what Heller has in mind for the show. I ****actually ****wrote this part long before the famous list of seven was revealed, but I'm still very happy that "my" Red John for this fic is on it. I know that some of ****Jane's ****reasoning comes from things that have ****only**** happened in my story arc (which is quite AU by now), but most of it is actually taken directly from the show. Anyway, please let me know what you think - I love RJ speculations!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Warnings: maybe a little bit angsty at times...**

* * *

"Yes, it is. He told me again actually – on Friday after the press conference. He came over to me and said that I was playing a dangerous game and didn't know whom I'd just crossed," Jane whispered, still holding on to Lisbon fiercely. "You were right, Teresa, it was a mistake to rile him up. Oh god, I'm so sorry. I was just indulging my personal dislike of him and now he's targeting you. I'm so, so sorry. I knew I'd screw this up. I always do with the ones I love," he added frantically, his hold on Teresa getting nearly hurtfully strong.

Lisbon managed to pry his hug open a bit so she could lock her eyes with his. "Patrick, please. You have to stay focused now. Nothing has happened to me and I can protect myself. And the team is going to do so as well. Please pull yourself together, love. There was no way you could've known on Friday. And though I didn't agree with your actions back then and thought you weren't thinking clearly, I don't see it that way now."

She stopped to search his eyes, but he was still in panic-mode it seemed. "Patrick, it was the right thing to do. You didn't know Bertram was Red John, and the director had to take responsibility for his lack in judgment. Now we know his motives were different of course, but with what we knew back then, it was only right he lost his job. I never disagreed with you on that point. I just didn't expect him to be sacked and was worried about the repercussions for you if he stayed in office. That's why I was angry with you."

She took his face between her hands, her thumbs wiping away the tears running down his cheeks without him realizing. "You haven't screwed up, imp," she whispered, for his ears only, before she continued with her usual voice. "We know who he is and we'll get him. But I need you with a clear head now, not filled with unnecessary guilt and regret. Please try to calm yourself. No one here is accusing you. We'll get him – together. We're the best damn team in this state, and we _will_ get him, Patrick," she said with finality, and the others in the room expressed their affirmation.

One by one the three younger agents came closer and patted Jane on the shoulder and told him they didn't blame him. In the end the whole thing turned into the first group-hug the team had ever shared. Especially the men weren't that comfortable with it, but wordlessly agreed that these special circumstances demanded special actions. It was a reassurance for everyone in the room, that they trusted each other and would do everything in their power to bring this whole mess to a positive end – together - after so many years.

"Thank you," Jane finally pressed out, after they had released each other. "I thank you all for your support and friendship. I really appreciate it." His face was open for once in front of his colleagues and sincerity shone from it.

* * *

They went over the footage from the camera together afterwards and to their shock and dismay, they saw none other than their colleague Ron making his way up to the attic two times during the hours in question: The first visit had occurred at a quarter to three, when Patrick had been at home to get Lisbon clean clothes. The second one had taken place at a quarter to eight. It had been a close call, because only two minutes after he'd left, they could see Jane making his way up there.

"Guess, we found another mole," Cho commented without humor.

Van Pelt looked totally appalled. "Can you imagine? We've been working with him for years! He's always been so kind and helpful. How the hell does Red John manage to find all those minions?" This was actually a question that had been plaguing her for quite a while now. Intellectually, this new revelation didn't surprise her. After Craig nothing like this really could, but she still couldn't get her mind around the fact that seemingly nice and decent people could somehow be convinced to work for that psychopath.

"Well, not that I ever found the man charming, but Bertram has a certain way with people. You don't get into such a position without some people skills," Jane provided. "Furthermore, he must be a master of hypnosis among other things. Just remember what he did to Kristina."

He sighed. "There is a certain chance a lot of his confederates are actually programmed to do his dirty work. Anything else would be too big a risk anyway. Too many people really in the know are a liability he can't afford. He had to kill quite a few already, come to think of it."

He'd calmed down by now and was able to focus on the task at hand. A big part of his mind was busy coming up with plan after plan to get Red John, just to dismiss every single one of them right afterwards. But that was his modus operandi: he looked at every plan like it was a game of chess and played out different strategies and scenarios to figure out which one seemed the most fool-proof. This time he took extra care because he couldn't allow himself another mistake. Too much depended on him coming up with an airtight scheme – most importantly Teresa's life – and he most certainly wasn't willing to take any risks with it.

* * *

"I have to get back to my office," Lisbon announced a short while later. "I'm in charge right now and there'll be people needing me." She sighed, not happy at the prospect.

"At least one of you must always stay with her," Jane said seriously addressing his teammates. "She can't be left alone anywhere anymore. I would do it myself, but-", he looked down sheepishly, "-we all know I won't be much of a protector."

"Well, thankfully we keep you around for other reasons, so it's not that dire," Cho deadpanned.

"Maybe we should all gather in your office, boss. We could do it under the pretext of helping you with paperwork and such. We were in and out of your office the whole time yesterday. It wouldn't appear strange," Van Pelt suggested.

"If she gets as many visitors as yesterday, it would be a bit impractical, though," Jane objected. "Other than that I would feel most comfortable with all of us being close by."

"I don't expect that many people coming by today. Let's try it that way. If it doesn't work out, we'll find another solution," Lisbon replied.

"What about Ron, boss? Are we going to arrest him?" Rigsby asked.

She pondered the question for a moment, but it was Jane who spoke up, "If I may suggest something?" Lisbon nodded her consent. "It might turn out useful to have the mole still in place. We could feed him false information. We don't have a viable plan yet, so we should hold our options as open as possible."

"Sound reasoning, Jane. But he'll only be useful as long as he believes that we don't know about his role." Lisbon turned towards the other woman. "Van Pelt, who did you speak to in Security when you asked for the footage from the camera?" she inquired.

The redhead smiled. "It was Jake, boss. He has a bit of a crush on me." She blushed. "He promised he wouldn't tell anyone about my request." Suddenly the young woman looked slightly sheepish. "Actually, I forgot to mention that the camera wasn't supposed to be working last night according to Jake. There was some maintenance taking place but the technicians finished ahead of schedule. God, how could I have forgotten to tell you? This is important. I mean…"

Lisbon held up her hand to stop her. "It's alright, Grace. So much has happened and we're all in a state of stress. But this is good news. I guess Ron went up here without any disguise, because he believed that there wouldn't be any way to pin this on him."

"And it's a blessing, considering that your cell phone is most probably rigged, Teresa. Because this way it won't alert that bastard to the fact that we found his mole, even though he's overheard you talking to Van Pelt, requesting the footage," Jane added. "He'll just assume we didn't get anything."

The consultant paused a moment to think, then he continued, "We should probably try to act as inconspicuous as possible. We can't just all trudge down from here together. Lisbon does come up to the attic on occasion, but you three hardly ever enter this part of the building." He stopped again only to suggest a moment later, "I recommend that you leave one by one and that you make sure no one is watching you when you reach the bottom of the stairs."

Sharing his thought process for once, he went on, "Our mole will of course know that we've found the letter by now and might be in a state of unease, but we shouldn't give away too much. He'll notice our gathering in your office and probably interpret it correctly. But any other reaction from us would be absurd considering the circumstances. So all he'll have to report to Bertram is that we're acting exactly as expected."

* * *

The others nodded in agreement. They packed their gear and left the attic. Cho went down first, Van Pelt followed a few minutes later, and Rigsby made his way down next. Lisbon and Jane decided to leave together and engage in some open bickering while entering the bullpen because that was probably the sight people were most used to from them.

"So you're practically the boss-boss-boss at the moment, Lisbon. I hope you'll not succumb to the power-rush and turn into even more of a ruthless dictator," Jane teased her when they passed the break room, which was occupied by several agents from other teams.

"You better not provoke me, Jane. I'm finally in the position to sack you once and for all. No big bosses to hide behind anymore," she replied snootily.

"Ah come on, Lisbon. You know you can't manage without me. Who's supposed to close all the cases for you? Admit it: you're totally dependent on me." He grinned smugly.

"In your dreams, Jane. So maybe we won't catch as many bad guys, but at least I'd be rid of the worst guy." She cast him an apologetic look to take the sting out of her words, but he winked and let her know, he wasn't the least bit insulted.

"What can I say, you've finally figured out my secret weapon, Lisbon: takes a bad guy to know a bad guy. That's why you holier-than-though cops hardly ever catch them." He chuckled evilly. "But before you fire me, you should consider what I would be capable of on the other side of the law. I could start a reign of terror in this fine state and you'd sure as hell never catch me."

She groaned dramatically. "When you put it like that I'm afraid I'll just have to keep you, even if it pains me."

He chuckled again. "I knew you'd see it my way eventually, Agent Lisbon."

* * *

They entered her office and both released a sigh of relief. The other members of the team were already there and had set up their computers on her conference table.

"That went well," Teresa stated. "That show should've been convincing enough. Though really, Jane: a reign of terror? Should I be worried?" She raised her brows.

He grinned impishly. "Definitely, Lisbon. I've been planning my future carrier as a criminal mastermind for years. I know all your silly little cop tricks now, because you've so generously granted me insight into the heart of crime fighting. Who could possibly stop me?"

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly. "Well, mister. Only problem for you is I know where you live."

This caused snickers from all occupants in the room and lightened the mood vastly. They all concentrated on their work for a while, Lisbon at her desk, the other agents placed around her table. Jane was lounging on the couch deep in thought. Suddenly he jumped up. "Darn!" he exclaimed. "He knows that we know."

His colleagues, who'd all looked up at his totally uncharacteristic outburst, eyed him with confusion. "What do you mean?" Lisbon asked.

"Bertram. He knows that we know. This is dangerous. I should've known. I'm really off my game lately," the blond man ranted, his face a picture of annoyance.

"How could he possibly know?" Rigsby frowned.

Jane sighed. "The database of course. The man has excess to the CBI system. It all makes sense now. Bertram had or still has a high priority access. Remember the file with the video showing Darcy that was sent to our computer as if it came from outside the system? Guess it didn't." He cast them all a pointed look. "I'm sure he put in some kind of trigger to alert him as soon as someone called up his DNA profile," he added. "He always covers all his bases."

The others groaned when they realized that he was probably right. "What now? He must know we're on his track. Any idea what he might do?" Lisbon voiced the question they were all sitting with.

The consultant shook his head in dismay. "Other than sending a whole army of assassins in here to eliminate us all? No, I don't know what his next move could be." He looked defeated and added quietly, "Sometimes I sort of play around in my head with possible scenarios. I've always considered it a strong likelihood that the moment we get really close, he'd stage some kind of endgame. He sees himself as an artist. A final stand or last hurrah might be his choice." He exhaled audibly. "Then again, that could just as well be more like my own fantasy. I don't know."

"I think that is a distinct possibility, Jane," Cho stated. "During the last years this has turned more and more into a chess game between you and him. His motives for killing have changed. When was the last time he has actually acted according to his original MO?"

The consultant pondered the question. "Not once since Carter, who told me that Red John wanted to retire," he finally said. "Oh no! Don't tell me I'm the sole reason he's been killing lately? That if I'd given up, he'd have stopped his killing altogether?" He put his hands before his face in horror.

"No, Patrick," Lisbon replied warmly to reassure him. "You've just distracted him from his original game. Obviously he enjoys toying with you more than slaughtering random, innocent women these days. That's a good thing in my book." She got up from her desk and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Who has he killed personally since the Carter-incident? Panzer, that morgue attendant who'd assisted you with Rosalind, and your father. Guess, Keen should be added as well, though he didn't do it with his knife," she recapped.

Jane had lowered his hands and locked eyes with her. "You're right, Teresa. He's been concentrating solely on our little face-off. Panzer was killed both because he'd insulted him and also as a kind of favor to me." He sighed, a flicker of shame passing his face. "He even left some sort of message for me making that clear. Bret Stiles told me that Red John had admired my set-up."

He paused to collect his thoughts. "The murder of the morgue attendant was to get Darcy involved even more and to make it pretty hard for me to deny any longer that Carter hadn't been the right man. He wanted me to acknowledge that Red John was still out there. It also led to the FBI assuming that I was one of his disciples, which - as his attempt to gain my friendship in Vegas showed clearly - is exactly what he would have wished to happen."

He looked deep in thought, but continued to speak after only a short break. "Alex was personal, obviously. He'd found out that I didn't have the best of relationships with my father, who had also had the audacity to attack me with Red John's weapon of choice - with the intention of killing me, or at least hurting me seriously. So Alex had to die – again, like with Panzer, both because he felt insulted and as a kind of favor to me. Keen is just collateral damage, so to speak. The weak-minded minion who was about to break."

Patrick cast them all inquiring looks. "Now just one question remains: Why? Why the hell is he so obsessed with me that he's given up his original perversion over it?"

* * *

"Maybe what Keen said is actually not too far from the truth," Rigsby injected, his face showing deep disgust. "Maybe he really kind of loves you or something. I mean, in a very twisted sort of way."

"Hey, no need to pull such a face. I'm a pretty lovable guy," Jane tried to joke, but not even he found it particularly funny. He turned serious again and said, "If that is really the case, what could be the consequences for the current situation? Any ideas anyone?"

"One thing's for sure: he'll make this personal, Jane," Cho provided.

"And he'll want to try and dictate all the rules. So maybe your idea of a final showdown is valid," Van Pelt added.

"Which pretty much leaves us in a defensive position," Jane grumbled, pacing the small office like a caged animal. "I hate this. I'd much rather we could corner the bastard at our own conditions instead of sitting here and waiting for his next move."

Lisbon pulled him over to the couch and pressed him down on it. "Please try to keep your cool. You're not helping matters right now. And Patrick?" She eyed him warily. "Promise me that under no circumstances are you going and confronting him on your own in some hair brained scheme and under the pretext of wanting to keep us safe." Her tone was insistent and serious.

All eyes were on Jane now. He looked uncomfortable and cornered, but didn't answer, which disconcerted her. "Jane!" she pleaded, her eyes locking with his. "Don't even think of it. I swear I'll cuff you to one of the team if necessary. We're in this together and we need to act as a team."

He nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I promise. No going it alone."

They all sighed with relief.

"Now what? We stay here like sitting ducks?" Patrick inquired moodily.

"I see no other options right now," Lisbon answered, patting his hand.

"This is ridiculous. How is this supposed to work? Are we going to do everything together now? Like using the break room or the facilities? Or go out and get lunch? Are we all going to move in together as well? This isn't very practical, Lisbon. We need a plan," Jane ranted, pulling his hand out of Lisbon's hold.

"I agree," Cho chimed in. "I have no idea what sort of plan, but we can't just put our lives on hold like that. We don't even know when he'll make his next move. He's proven that he has the patience to wait for the best opportunities. He'll just wait until we start to let our guards down."

"I don't like it," Teresa said. "I know you're probably right, but I want to play this safe. I'm not willing to risk your lives."

Now Patrick took one of her hands and intertwined their fingers. "I understand your concerns, Teresa. And the last thing I want is for any of you to get hurt. But we can't leave it all up to him. Maybe we should try to use his mole. At least he doesn't know that we have exposed his minion. I need some time to do some serious thinking." He made to get up.

"Don't even think of going up to the attic on your own, Jane," Lisbon told him with a death glare and a matching grip on his arm.

"Teresa, please. I need some space. I'm probably the safest person in the world right now. He doesn't want to hurt me directly. Remember? He loves me," he tried to joke her concerns away and freed his arm, but all four agents in the office looked at him with less than friendly expressions.

Patrick lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture and rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get it. You win. I'll stay here like a good boy. Let's hope I'll be able to hatch out one of my ingenious plans with all of you hovering over me…" Shooing his lover off the couch, he stretched out on it and said with a snooty voice, "Expect a complaint about my unacceptable working conditions on your desk come morning, Agent Lisbon. If necessary, I'll take it up with your superiors."

She couldn't quell a short snicker and gave in to a sudden urge to ruffle his curls on her way back to her desk. "No superiors, Jane, remember? Just little old me on a power-trip, I'm afraid."

He snorted and grinned in her direction. "Power's already gotten to your head. You never dared to destroy my neatly groomed hair before. Guess I'm doomed then. We all are."

The whole team exchanged some amused looks and the mood was relatively light again. But Jane's next statement – though uttered in jest – brought them back to the difficult situation they were facing. "Now shut up, the whole lot of you. The genius needs time to think." And with that, he closed his eyes and retreated into his formidable mind.

* * *

**TBC**

**A/N: I have to admit that I'm a tad disappointed I got so little feedback for the last chapter. I'd really been looking forward to getting your opinions on Jane's (or rather my) conclusions about Red John. I was/am rather unsure about it all, because I'm not exactly the most strategic thinking person and I'm always afraid that my logic is flawed and that I might've missed a fact that totally contradicts my deductions. As a matter of fact I'm not even that convinced Bertram will be revealed as the real RJ on the show. He's always appeared kind of too obvious for me to believe that he's Heller's choice (you know, like with the whole quoting Blake thing and his strange meeting with Kirkland...). But on the other hand there is a certain lapse in the logic of the episode "Strawberries And Cream" that indicates at least a connection of some kind between Bertram and RJ. **

**Anyway, I'm glad that those who sent me a review seem to agree with the logic behind my reasoning and that I'm not the only one who noticed the either 'slip-up' or clue in the Season 3 finale that served as the focal point of my conclusions.  
**

**I'd still love to get your opinions on the matter and can only hope that the lack of further reactions so far doesn't derive from your total confusion...**

**Last but not least: Reviews are like Lisbon's urge to ruffle Jane's curls - a power too strong to resist... (okay, I concede, that was a lame one).**


	47. Chapter 47

The next hours were filled with ever growing mountains of paperwork and a stream of phone calls that had Patrick groaning with irritation. "I can't work like this," he complained after a while. "It's different in the bullpen, where the noises are more a background sound, but here it's making it impossible to concentrate. I need to get out of here."

"You're not going anywhere alone, Jane," Lisbon told him strictly. "I understand your annoyance, but running off is not the solution."

He sighed. "Your concern is touching, but I assure you, I'm the person least likely to get attacked by him directly. He wants to hurt me by hurting those close to me." Suddenly he sat up with panic in his eyes. "Damn! I need to call my grandparents and the rest of the family. Bertram was at the funeral. He knows them." He tore at his hair and mumbled angrily. "Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I forget?"

He jumped up from the couch and searched all his pockets frantically for his cell phone. "Lisbon, where's my phone? I left it with you last night. He didn't take it, did he?" He'd paled.

Teresa snatched it out of the pocket of her blazer. "No, Patrick. I have it here. Just forgot to give it back to you earlier."

Jane rushed over to her and took it. He called first his grandmother and when he didn't get an answer, he frantically tried his grandfather. "Oh, thank heaven, Jonathan. You're alright!" he exclaimed a moment later. "Where's Elisa?" He took a deep breath and some of the tension left his stance. "Okay, so you're on your way back to San Francisco and she's the one driving." He nodded at Lisbon and she gave him a reassuring smile in return. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. But listen, sir: you have to be careful. I doubt it that my phone is clean, so I'm not going to say much, but I have received a serious threat from Red John. Please be extra careful and never leave the house alone. Not that that is much of a protection considering his resources, but it's better than nothing," he explained in a rush. "I'm sorry I implicated you in this whole mess. Please, could you inform Matthew and his family as well? Thank you, sir."

He hung up and started to pace, his face a study in desperation and frustration. "We need clean phones. This is a nightmare. I might just have done the opposite of what I wanted to do. Maybe I just managed to make them targets with this call. Oh god!" He hid his face behind his hands.

"He's right, Boss," Cho agreed. "We have to do something. It's quite probable that we can't even make a single call without him knowing. We can't just sit here and do nothing. This is not going to work."

Rigsby chimed in, "Yes, and we have at least to get rid of Ron for a while. There might be other moles, but we know of him, and we can't really do anything here without him realizing. Can't we send him on some errand?"

Lisbon nodded. "That's a good idea. Or do you have any other plans for him right now, Patrick?"

Their consultant shook his head. "Right now I'm so out of plans, it's a complete disaster! I can't think straight." He looked flustered.

Teresa saw immediately that she had to take control of the situation. Her lover wouldn't be much help right now and until she'd at least gotten rid of the obvious mole, she didn't feel comfortable doing anything to reassure him. "Alright. That's what we'll do: Cho, Rigsby, you're in charge of getting us clean phones. We need at least one each. But I suggest you get eight or nine. We might need to hand some out to allies. When we have means for clean communication, I'll talk with a friend of mine at LAPD. The Carmichael-case will be up in court soon and as it was in their jurisdiction at first, we'll pretend there are some pieces of hard evidence still missing and send Ron down to Los Angeles to fetch them. That'll have him occupied for a while."

Everybody nodded. "And bring some lunch," Van Pelt added in the direction of the departing agents.

The request made Wayne's eyes shine happily. "Absolutely," he said as the two left.

* * *

"Now we three will sit down together and try to think things through. I'll redirect all calls. We really need to have some peace and quiet for a while," Lisbon said and got up from behind her desk after programming her phone. She walked over to her small conference table and motioned for Grace and Patrick to join her there. The two complied, though Jane had a hard time sitting calmly. "Okay. What do we have to bear in mind? What are our foremost concerns and how do we proceed?" the team leader asked.

"I may have one suggestion," Patrick chimed in, before they could recapitulate the situation.

"Out with it, Jane," Lisbon encouraged him.

He wriggled around on his chair, showing clearly his agitation and inability to calm down. "We need someone high up to support us, when things come to a head." Both women nodded and he continued when Teresa motioned for him to go on, "With no supervising agent and no director our options are limited. But we might need SWAT and other teams as back-up and though you're kind of in charge right now, Lisbon, I'm not sure how far your authority reaches. Are you?"

She pondered the question for a moment. "Oh, I'm quite sure I'd get full support from the other CBI teams and SacPD, but a mission of that extent and importance needs back-up from the higher ranks. Problem is, we don't know who might be in league with Bertram. This is tricky. But I gather from your earlier words that you have an idea?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, I do. But we need the clean phones first – urgently. Though I have an inkling, that hers might not be clean either, which kind of makes calling her from a clean one unnecessary," he replied pensively.

"Could you please refrain from riddling like that, Jane?" she scolded him.

He cast her an annoyed look. "I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm winging it right now. Can't you grant me a bit of leeway for once, woman?"

She sighed. "Please, Jane. Not now. I have no energy to fight with you. All our nerves are on edge. I didn't mean to criticize, but I want clear answers from you, okay?"

Patrick took a deep breath but still glared at her. "I'm trying, damn it!" Finally restraining himself, he cast his girlfriend an apologetic look. "Okay, so this is what I've come up with. We have one person, who happens to work in the Department of Justice now, and who's most certainly not a confederate of Red John and owes us a favor or two."

"Madeleine!" Lisbon exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that? Great idea, Jane!"

He cast her a tentative smile. "Because your whole brain is consumed by stupid paperwork. And besides, there must be a reason you keep me around." Van Pelt and Lisbon snorted. "Anyway, ladies. We can't contact her. Or we might as well because I'm pretty convinced that her phone's being monitored. So even if we call her from a clean one, it might not make much of a difference. We should ask her to meet us at a public place that still offers enough privacy. Any suggestions?"

Van Pelt chimed in at that point, "A park, maybe? The weather's nice enough and if we pick an open spot, it'll be difficult to eavesdrop on our conversation."

"Good idea, Grace. Better than a café or something," Jane praised the young woman. "Why not simply the gardens around City Hall? She won't have to go far, which would have the bonus of minimizing the danger to her, should that bastard try to prevent her from meeting us. I'd hate it if something happened to her."

"Yes, that sounds like a plan. And we won't call her until we've already arrived there. He won't have time to plan anything at such a short notice," Teresa agreed. "And now I'll call SFPD and the department in San Jose as well and order protection for your family, Jane. Even if the line's not clean. Not everyone there can be a mole and I want to make sure that they have at least some kind of security in place. Besides, I still have a few contacts in San Fran that I trust."

"But you can't tell them it's about Red John, Lisbon," Patrick objected nervously.

She put a calming hand over one of his, which was drumming on the tabletop frenziedly. "Patrick, please try to relax a bit."

"I'm not sure I can. I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I understand, love. But you're just making this worse. I need you with a clear mind. You're our best weapon against him, but right now you're doing exactly what HE wants you to do: losing your head. That's what he intended with that letter and at the moment you're doing HIM a favor with your behavior," she told him insistently.

At her words his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, looking defeated. But a moment later the other two occupants of the office could see him obviously trying to compose himself. He regulated his breathing. With two of his fingers he started to pat several parts of his body - especially his face - in some kind of pattern the women didn't recognize. A few minutes later he stopped and when he opened his eyes again and looked up, he seemed like a different person. Gone was the haunted expression, the nervousness, and obvious desperation and panic. He appeared composed and collected.

"What the hell did you just do?" Lisbon asked with astonishment.

He cast her a reassuring glance. "I applied some so-called Emotional Freedom Techniques, more specifically Thought Field Therapy. It's called tapping and has been known to produce remarkable results with anxiety and such. It derives from more classical forms of acupressure. It's not an accepted method by most psychologists, but who cares. It works for me," he explained calmly.

"Yes. It seems it does," Lisbon replied with wonder in her eyes. "You're really full of surprises, Jane."

"Well, let's admire my superior abilities another time and concentrate on the matter at hand," the consultant said with a slightly arrogant glint in his eyes, but both women decided to refrain from calling him out on it. They knew him well enough to realize that he was projecting a mask right now. Instead, they proceeded to summarize the facts they had, the things that needed their attention, and their next options, and Teresa made her two calls and ordered a protection detail for the other members of the Jane-family.

* * *

Not too long afterwards Cho and Rigsby returned carrying some bags. They entered the office and closed and locked the door. "We got ten clean ones," Cho informed them.

"And sandwiches and a blueberry pie," Rigsby added eagerly, which elicited an indulgent smile from Grace and two sets of rolled eyes from Lisbon and Jane.

"It's good to know that at least one person has his priorities right, Rigs," Patrick teased the younger man.

Wayne looked a bit sheepish but said," Well, Jane, even the greatest mastermind can't work without fuel, right?"

"Can't say I'm feeling particularly hungry, but I guess you're right," Patrick grumbled.

"Let's work out the phone-situation first. I need one to call LAPD at once," Teresa ordered.

Cho handed her one of the cell phones and a paper with all the necessary codes to use it. She typed in the number of her contact in Los Angeles, gave him a very superficial version of the facts, and asked him to string along the CBI agent coming down to fetch the victim's clothes in the Carmichael-case as much as possible. She got his assurance that her old friend would delay Ron and deliver the fake evidence to him as late as possible. Their deceitful colleague would be forced to stay overnight anyway considering the current time of day and the long drive ahead.

Satisfied she hung up. She was just about to leave and inform the traitor of the errand she had intended for him, when Patrick stopped her. "You should call your contact on the normal line and ask for the evidence. Otherwise, Red John might get suspicious if you send Ron there without any previous contact with your colleagues in LA, Lisbon. He'll know we've both got clean phones and exposed his spy."

She sighed in frustration. "I'm definitely not cut out for all this subterfuge stuff. You're right of course, and it didn't even cross my mind."

"That's why you keep a fraud like me around. I can assure you, I know how to keep track of things like that. It's essential in my former line of work," Jane told her.

"I don't appreciate you calling yourself names like that, Jane," Teresa scolded him. "You're not a fraud and I don't want to hear that from you ever again. Got it?" He nodded meekly and she smiled warmly at him. Then she made a second call from her normal office phone and fortunately, her old friend seemed to catch on to the problem at hand and answered accordingly. Lisbon's relief was clearly visible on her face.

"How about we turn lunch into a picnic?" Jane suggested when she had finished her call. "I've heard that the gardens around City Hall are especially beautiful at this time of year."

Van Pelt smiled. "Sounds like a lovely idea."

"I'll send Ron on his merry way then, and we can enjoy the sunshine afterwards," Lisbon said dryly.

Cho and Rigsby looked slightly confused but figured that this was part of some plan. The senior agent left the office and returned a few minutes later with a bright smile on her face. "Either he's one hell of an actor, or he took the bait hook, line, and sinker," she stated.

"Not to burst your little bubble of joy, but he IS one hell of an actor, Lisbon. He has been fooling us for years," Patrick retorted.

"I still think he doesn't suspect anything right now," she insisted.

Jane cast her a tentative smile. "Well, let's hope you're right. Has he already left or should we wait a bit longer?"

"He left at once. I told him it was urgent." Her grin looked devious, just like the answering ones from her team.

* * *

**TBC**

**Not that I'll stop posting otherwise, but I'd really apprecitate some feedback, because reviews are like blueberry pie: not essential, but deliciously sweet and they might just make my mind work better and faster... **


	48. Chapter 48

Cho handed a clean phone to each of them and Jane asked for a second one, which he got after Lisbon had given an affirmative nod. They grabbed their jackets and left the office. Lisbon was stopped and bombarded with questions at least a dozen times on their way out of the building, but they finally managed to get to the parking lot. They took one of the bigger SUVs and made their way to the City Hall.

When the big building came into view, Patrick called Madeleine Hightower from his normal phone, figuring that hers wasn't clean anyway. He asked her outside to discuss an urgent matter with her and made it very clear that it had to be now and that it was essential they meet in the open.

From what the others in the car could gather, it took some persuasion to get her to meet him at once and at his conditions, but he succeeded. They left the car and found a spot that was both secluded and open enough to make it impossible to spy on them without being noticed. Grace had even remembered to take along a blanket from the car so the whole thing really looked like a team picnic.

* * *

Only minutes later Madeleine Hightower appeared with an irritated expression on her face. But when she spotted the whole team with Lisbon included, her features relaxed and she greeted them warmly. "What a nice surprise," she said. "And here I thought this was some illicit scheme of his." She motioned in Jane's direction. "Though you could've just told me you wanted to share a picnic with me, Patrick, instead of worrying me like that."

"I'm afraid there is a lot of reason for worry, Madeleine," Teresa replied seriously. "This might look like a picnic but unfortunately it's just a guise."

Hightower sighed heavily. "Let me guess: this is about Red John?"

"Afraid so," Jane said. "We need your help. We know who he is and you're one of the few people high up that we trust isn't in league with him."

"You know who he is?" their former boss asked with a skeptical expression.

Lisbon nodded. "We have actual proof, ma'am."

"Well then: out with the truth," Madeleine demanded.

"First we need your promise that you won't jeopardize this and let us take the lead. You might think you have to inform your superiors or something like that, but this has to stay between us. We can't trust anyone. If you're not willing to agree to these terms, I'm afraid we can't tell you," Jane insisted.

She cast him a disapproving glance. "I'm not sure I can give that promise without further information."

"Then our business here is over," Jane said and got up.

Lisbon held her hand up to stop him. "Hold your horses, Jane. Madeleine, this is really serious and for once I fully agree with Jane's terms. You have to trust us on this one."

Hightower sighed and took a seat on the blanket, motioning for the consultant to return as well. "Alright. I guess I owe you that much."

* * *

"This was a mistake," Jane suddenly exclaimed, still making no move to sit down. "I didn't think this through, I'm sorry." He shook his head and looked sadly at them. "Madeleine, you should just forget we ever contacted you. I'm so sorry we got you involved. This is dangerous information and you have your children to think of. I hope it isn't too late already." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I never think clearly when it comes to that bastard. Please forgive me."

Their former boss sighed. "Patrick, I've been on his shortlist for years now. I know I'm in danger from him. My children are both at a boarding school. They love it there. I made the decision to send them away when I came back to Sacramento. I knew the risks and though it pains me to be away from them, I know they are happy and relatively safe." She motioned once more for Jane to take a seat. "Sit down. I want that bastard dealt with nearly as much as you do. I live in fear of him every day. And if I can do anything to help, I will. So sit down." She cast him one of her strict, commanding looks and he obeyed. "Now I want facts."

They got her up to date with Lisbon summarizing the facts, avoiding carefully mention of anything that gave away her changed relationship with her consultant. When she was finished and Cho had handed Hightower a clean phone, the former CBI agent said, "Well, that's a real shock I must say. But the facts are irrefutable. What can I do?"

"Not sure right now," Jane replied. "He knows that we know, so I expect him to act sooner rather than later. Now that we have a name and a face, his chances of escape are distinctly lower than before, so I anticipate some kind of final stand." After a deep breath he added, "He could of course try to hide behind another identity, but we have his DNA, his fingerprints, his looks…"

He cast them all a serious glance and told them quietly, "It's just a hunch, but I think he's tired of this game as well. He's changed his style ever since Carter. It's only been about me these last few years. And he actually told me repeatedly that he wants me to be his friend and start a new life. Somehow it feels like he kind of means it." With a shudder he went on, "And he seems to have some twisted feelings for me and I have refused him several times and now cost him his job and the chance to be close to me. He'll want to punish me and at the same time go down in a blaze of glory, for want of a better word." With his eyes cast down at his lap he subjoined in a whisper, "And I'm quite afraid he wants me to go down with him."

"Well then we'll have to make sure it doesn't happen that way," Cho said with determination, patting his friend's arm. He knew that Lisbon longed to comfort her boyfriend but wouldn't dare to do it in a public place and in front of Hightower. And Jane obviously needed the reassurance because he looked like a beaten puppy. Seeing him at this very moment showed just how tired and crestfallen the other man was after nearly a decade of being spited and scorned by a psychopath. And with the threat against Teresa to boot you had one desperate man.

"Yes," both Rigsby and Van Pelt agreed emphatically with Cho's statement.

* * *

Teresa was torn. All her instincts told her to hug Patrick. He looked so lost. But with her former superior around she didn't quite dare. But didn't his needs outweigh the embarrassment she would certainly feel after such a public display? Fortunately her second in command had jumped in and offered at least a bit of comfort. But Patrick's eyes were still downcast and his shoulders slumped. His whole demeanor showed defeat and that scared her. She needed him to stand strong and not give up now that they were closer to Red John than ever.

"Patrick, look at me," she ordered, having made up her mind. She had to reach him somehow. Maybe words would be enough, but if necessary she would comfort him in other ways, propriety be damned. She was relieved when he at least looked up. She didn't really like what she saw. His expression was one of hopelessness. "We're close, closer than ever, Jane. I know it's frightening, but the end is near and I need you strong and determined. We've come this far and we'll see this through together."

Jane jumped up and started to pace. "I don't know where you get that damn optimism from. The bastard still holds all the cards. So we know who he is. Big deal. He probably has freaking moles in all law enforcement units in this god-awful state! We can't even trust a darn SWAT team to do its job if need be!" He ranted angrily. "And he still dictates every fricking thing. We just stumble around in darkness and wait for the bastard to make his move and kill someone else I love. And I can't think! I've no effing idea what to do. Feels like every move just digs the hole deeper. I hate this! I HATE THIS!"

* * *

**TBC**

**It's a bit short, but it seemed a good place to stop.**

**BTW: I know, that Jane doesn't ****usually ****use profanity like that, but he's understandably agitated, so I ask you to cut the poor guy some slack...  
**

**And finally: Reviews are like picnics in the summer sun: they make me feel all warm and contented.**


	49. Chapter 49

**Warning: still rather angsty...**

* * *

Teresa was up on her feet as well now. She stopped his pacing and took a not so gentle hold of his arm. Her eyes blazed with fire. "And you think this helps?" She inquired, her voice tinged with quiet anger. "Pull yourself together, Jane."

"I'm trying, Lisbon," he shouted. "Don't you think I'm trying? But I can't! I can't think. My whole head is filled with images of you cut open. I'm scared and I can't think." He'd lowered his head again in shame. "Now that we're so close I'm too pathetic to even think straight! How could I've ever imagined myself to cut the bastard open? I'm a freaking coward, nothing but a useless recreant, paralyzed with fear." A sob escaped him. "And you don't need to tell me that this is exactly what he wanted to accomplish. I know that." He took a shuddering breath. "Still can't help it," he added softly, a few tears running down his cheeks.

The senior agent had seen and heard enough. Her lover was about to break down in front of their team and she couldn't allow that to happen. She pulled him into her arms and drew calming circles on his back. "I'm scared, too, love," she spoke close to his ear. "That's not being a coward. I'm sure we're all afraid. And you have more reason than any of us," she said as calmly as possible. "It's only been a few hours since we found out. And now it's all caught up with you. It's alright not to have a plan all thought out and ready. Nobody expects you to. Don't be so hard on yourself, Patrick," she tried to soothe him. "You've already come up with more useful suggestions than anyone else. And I'm here, love. He hasn't done me any harm. I'm a cop and I have the best team in this state to protect me."

Slowly he made contact with her eyes. She saw deep fear in them. Her hands came up to his face and cupped his cheeks, her thumbs wiping away the wetness. "I can't lose you," he whispered. "Can't live without you, Teresa."

"I know, Patrick." She pulled his head down a bit and covered his mouth with hers, ignoring their audience. The kiss was deep and desperate and showed such an obvious amount of intimacy that Lisbon normally would've rather cut off her arm than display emotions like these in front of others. But at this moment she had forgotten everything about their surroundings, she was only focused on the man she loved.

* * *

It was several minutes later when they finally broke their kiss and became aware of the rest of their party. Rigsby looked like he was about to faint, Cho wore his usual stoic expression, Van Pelt had dreamy eyes and Hightower said dryly, "I see it's finally happened."

Lisbon's face was red and Jane looked utterly sheepish and his next words didn't help much either. "It's not what it looks like, Madeleine," he tried to explain.

At this point all the tension everyone felt found some temporary release. First Cho snorted and then he couldn't help himself and started to laugh. This infected Rigsby, who burst out as well, accompanied by Van Pelt's helpless giggles. Hightower raised her brows and sported an indulgent smile. "Really now, Patrick?" she inquired, before she succumbed to a hearty laugh of her own.

"Guess we've been found out, Lisbon," Patrick stated and to Teresa's great relief she could see a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Actually we're caught red-handed, but thankfully not with our pants down," he offered with a smirk, effectively stopping Wayne's laughter and making him groan instead.

"Thanks for the visual, Jane," he complained. "She's my boss, you know?"

"Yep, Rigs. That's why you won't ever see her nak…" Patrick was interrupted by a pair of lips covering his own and silencing him.

"That's enough, Jane. Stop teasing him," Lisbon scolded him afterwards. "Though I'm glad, you're obviously not petrified anymore," she added warmly, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. "Can we sit down and plan calmly now?" she asked carefully.

He nodded. "I'm still not sure how useful I'll be at the moment, but I'll try," he promised her earnestly and took a seat on the blanket. Lisbon sat down beside him and didn't protest when one of his hands searched out hers and intertwined their fingers.

Teresa cast an anxious look in the direction of her former boss. Madeleine nodded in acknowledgment of the situation and her eyes conveyed her understanding. "It's alright, Agent Lisbon. No one will learn about this from me. And to be honest I expected this to happen at some point. I'm sure the only thing preventing it during the last few years was Patrick's guilt." Turning in Jane's direction she added, "I'm glad you're finally ready to move on. I still feel a bit guilty about that whole debacle with Kristina Frye. You weren't ready for it back then and I feel like I forced you into it."

Patrick smirked at her. "Oh I assure you, you didn't force me. No offense, but I think you're overestimating your power over me, Madeleine. Many have tried but the only one with any real sway over me is Lisbon. And even she has a hard time controlling me most of the time as we both know." He winked. "But you're right of course. I wasn't ready back then and Kristina wasn't the right woman either. I feel guilty about what happened to her and I liked her well enough. But we would've never worked out. She represented all the mistakes of my past. Hell, she was like a nicer version of my past self. After that first and only disastrous date I think we both knew that."

He squeezed Teresa's hand to make sure she knew she was the only one he loved. It was completely unnecessary but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. After the last weeks there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that his love for her was real. And if she had needed any further proof, his reactions after Red John's threat would have been more than enough.

* * *

"Now back to the problem at hand," Patrick said. "What we might need from you is your backing. We might need the support of other units and things like that. And without a director and a supervising agent it would be good to know we have the backing of the department, Madeleine."

"You have that. But there must be something else I can do. We should try to find other allies we can trust," Hightower replied.

Lisbon chimed in, "That would be good. But we're a bit stumped. Somehow everyone we can think of is suspect. Now that we know who he is, we're even more paranoid than before. He had years to build a support network in both law enforcement and government. Considering this it's a real miracle he was actually sacked." Her heartfelt sigh was accompanied by nods of her team.

The former supervising agent of the CBI pondered Teresa's words. "But he was in fact sacked. That tells us that he hasn't everyone under his thumb, doesn't it? You should stop being all gloomy." With a small smile she added, "Though after all that's happened I don't really blame you."

"You're right," Cho agreed. "The pressure obviously was too powerful even for him. That's at least something."

"Yeah. And it's made him so mad he's threatening Lisbon," Patrick muttered.

Teresa rolled her eyes, squeezed his hand, and scolded him, "Not again, Jane. Can you at least try to think positive for a moment?"

He snorted. "That's me: the poster boy of optimism and cheerfulness."

Ignoring his obvious sarcasm Lisbon replied, "You could be, you know?"

"Let's just ignore Mr. Grumpy for the moment," Madeleine said, casting the consultant a disapproving glance. "If we look at the facts we have so far, a few people come to mind who I'm rather certain we can trust. I know you might not like it but I think LaRoche would be a good place to start." Five incredulous looks were directed at her. "Yes, I had my difficulties with him as well, but I'm pretty convinced he's not in cohorts with Red John. Wouldn't you agree?"

"You're probably right."

Astonishingly enough it was Patrick who'd uttered those words. But Lisbon knew that he held a grudging respect for the man. LaRoche was sharp. He was a man who didn't allow rank or reputation to stand in his way of finding the truth and getting to the bottom of things. He was relentless, thorough, and stubborn. Those were all traits Jane himself possessed in abundance, and in many ways those two had a lot in common. Under different circumstances they might've even been able to become friends. But where J. J. was an almost fanatic fighter for the maintenance of the rules, Patrick preferred to challenge them and bend them in his favor. Thus the two were more like fire and ice. Still, Teresa imagined that should they ever manage to act in concert on the same side, they'd be a force to be reckoned with.

"How do we contact him?" she finally asked.

Rigsby looked very uncomfortable at the thought of working with that man after his latest encounter with him, and both Cho and Van Pelt didn't seem very happy either. "Is that really necessary?" Wayne asked carefully. "I mean, he's working in the Professional Standards Unit. What kind of help could he offer?"

Lisbon cast her three agents strict looks. "I know you've all had your differences with him. I'm not too thrilled either. But we have to look for support wherever we can get it. And he knows more about every single person working at the CBI than anyone else. He might be able to point out those above suspicion. That would be a great help."

"I agree," Hightower said, and Jane nodded.

"Why don't we just visit him in his office? Ron should still be out and about in Los Angeles, so he at least won't be able to interfere," Jane suggested.

Hightower raised her brows. "Sometimes you can be surprisingly mature, Patrick," she stated.

"I'll ignore the surprising part and take it as a compliment, Madeleine," Jane replied with a grin.

"Everything to lighten your mood," she said indulgently.

All serious again Patrick spoke up again. "While we're at it, we should make some additional plans. No one should be without backup from now on. And I mean at any moment, including tonight. I suggest we team up somehow."

"Sounds a lot like a slumber party to me, Jane." Wayne snickered.

Lisbon eyed him strictly and Hightower rolled her eyes. "Actually, it's a good idea, Patrick," the latter replied. "I'm guessing that my house is the biggest, so you're all welcome to spend the night there. I don't have that many bedrooms, but somehow I doubt sharing a bed will be a problem – at least in some cases." She cast a teasing smile in Teresa's direction, which made the senior agent blush at once.

But Lisbon composed herself fast and took charge. "That's very generous, ma'am. And as Rigsby probably isn't very keen on meeting LaRoche, I suggest he stays with you here at your office at City Hall and accompanies you home later. We'll take along your overnight bag, Wayne. The rest of us will go back to HQ and take it from there. Any contact between us will be conducted via the clean phones from now on. Any further questions right now?"

"Yes," Jane chimed in. "Wayne, what about Ben and Sarah? Shouldn't you just keep out of this whole mess? I mean, I don't know whether that's at all possible at this point, but I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to your son." His look at the other man was beseeching.

"They're both out of town, Jane. Visiting Sarah's parents. Won't be back until Wednesday next week. And I'm definitely in. I think we can all agree that no one's gonna be safe again until the bastard is gone," the tall agent replied emphatically. Then he gave Jane's shoulder a friendly pat. "Thanks for caring, Jane."

"'Course I care," the consultant mumbled barely audible. "I'd never want you to go through losing your boy. It's bad enough I caused your split-up with Sarah."

Rigsby shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I've told you before: it wasn't your fault. Our Las Vegas operation might've been the last deciding factor, but it had been a long time coming. In the end we were only together because of Benny." He gave the other man another pat on the shoulder. "I'm completely alright with the way things are now. To be honest, it was a bit of a relief for both of us, and the break-up was completely amicable. Please stop blaming yourself, okay?"

Jane nodded. "Alright, Wayne. Thanks for being such a good sport about it."

"You really are one stubborn idiot, Jane," Rigsby said with a roll of his eyes. "I don't regret being part of that operation, even if it didn't work the way we planned thanks to those stupid Feds. We were all given a choice and I decided to go along. Whatever consequences resulted from it are my responsibility. Could you please stop playing the martyr?"

Lisbon intervened at that point. "Well, he certainly has a special talent for that." She cast a pointed look in Jane's direction. "I've told him many times he doesn't carry the sins of the world on his shoulders. Maybe some day he'll actually believe it as well. Until then: Any other questions? No? Good. Let's go."

They got up and gathered their things. The foursome that was supposed to head back to HQ made a few detours on the way. First they got Lisbon's car from the _Fir Tree_, then they split up. Cho and Van Pelt took one car and made a stop at both Grace's and Cho's places to get a few essentials, while Jane and Lisbon did the same at theirs.

* * *

When Patrick and Teresa entered her apartment they noticed at once that someone had been there in their absence because the front door wasn't locked properly.

Lisbon took hold of her weapon and went inside ahead of her Jane, who'd fished out his clean phone and called Cho to inform him of the situation. He kept him on the line while Teresa secured the place. Fortunately it seemed to be empty now, but someone had clearly been there, most noticeable due to the stuffed elephant Jane had won for her at the carnival. It wasn't in its usual place sitting on the armrest of on one of the armchairs. Instead, it had been put in the middle of the couch. Most disturbing however was its state: its throat and stomach were cut open in true RJ-style and the wall above the sofa sported a small version of the ugly smiley-face. Another letter was stuck behind one of the toy's ears.

Lisbon fished a pair of rubber gloves from her jacket pocket and put them on. Afterwards she went to the creepy arrangement and took hold of the letter. Patrick watched in shock from the doorway and to Cho's growing fear and nervousness he mumbled "Oh god, oh god, oh god, no, no, no, no," without conveying any further information.

"We'll be with you shortly," Cho assured him. "You're not hurt, are you? Answer me, Jane!" he ordered desperately to no avail. Finally Teresa seemed to have heard her agent's frantic question and shouted, "No, Kimball. We're not injured. But I could do with some backup here. Patrick's not much help right now. And frankly, I'm not at my best either."

She'd retrieved the letter by now. "There's another letter here. I'll read it out loud now," she explained after stepping closer so she didn't need to shout to be heard through the phone. "My dear Patrick, it seems like you're not willing to follow my instructions. I don't tolerate such blatant disobedience. That public display at the park with your slut today was completely disgusting and utterly inappropriate. You're mine, Patrick, and mine alone. Never forget that. Congratulations for figuring out my identity at long last by the way – not that it will help you much. I hope you await my punishment for your arrogance in anticipation just as eager as mine. I'm looking forward to our next meeting. I'm sure it'll be glorious.

Sincerely, RJ

PS: I left a bit of my DNA on the wall for your further amusement

PPS: I hope you enjoyed my plushy surprise. Dumar Hardy sends his greetings…

Till I turn from Female love / And root up the Infernal Grove, / I shall never worthy be / To step into Eternity. / And, to end thy cruel mocks, / Annihilate thee on the rocks, / And another form create / To be subservient to my fate."

* * *

Teresa ended her rendition with a hoarse voice. Jane was shaking so much he could hardly hold the phone anymore and she took it from him. He sank down to the floor and sat with his back resting against the closest wall, trying with all his might to rein in his emotions.

"Cho? When will you get here?" Lisbon asked quietly into the phone.

"We'll be with you in a few minutes, boss. We're already on your street."

"Good," she said.

"All my fault," Jane mumbled beside her, still sitting on the floor.

"Nonsense, Patrick. Stop this."

"But don't you see? The elephant. Hardy got one for Rosalind and I shot him to protect you and then I got this one for you, at a shooting gallery of all places. How could I get you a plush elephant? I'm such an idiot," he ranted with a maniacal glint in his eyes that worried Teresa.

She sat down beside him. "Yes, you're being an idiot," she said as composed as possible. As usual, it seemed like she had to be the strong one. It had never felt so difficult. "You're an idiot for coming up with these crazy thoughts. I was the one who wanted that damn elephant because it reminded me of Daisy, Patrick." She tried to reason with him. "He's playing mind games with you, love. Please don't give him the satisfaction of breaking down now. He's toying with us. You know that, don't you?"

She longed to touch him, but she still wore the rubber gloves and until the others were there to take over the investigation of the crime scene, she couldn't allow herself to act unprofessional. Her nerves were wearing thin and she felt a massive headache taking root behind her eyes. Taking a painkiller was certainly also high on her list of things to do as soon as Cho and Van Pelt arrived. This was turning into a nightmare of a day and somehow she felt like the worst was yet to come.

Hopefully Bertram would need more time to set up the scenario for his potential final showdown. Even though his letter sounded as confident and arrogant as ever – it was really kind of ironic that he of all people called Jane arrogant – the frequency with which he had been acting these last days showed desperation in her opinion. Red John knew he had his back up against the wall and he wanted to weaken his most dangerous opponent as much as possible.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be succeeding. But she was positive she could get Patrick back on track with a little time and some TLC. Therefore, all she could hope for was at least another night without further incidents. In that respect it was actually a good sign that the bastard had broken into her apartment. This should have kept him busy and distracted from planning his grand finale.

Jane took a deep, calming breath and nodded. "I know. But I'm still feeling like it's getting too much. I'm trying, Teresa. I really am. I just feel so helpless and useless. I want to protect you but I know I'm probably the most unsuited person to do so." He looked at her with sad eyes. "I mean what I said before. I'm completely freaked out. Even though I have a name now and know who he is. He isn't a faceless monster anymore. That should make me feel more confident. But all I want to do is take you, run, and hide somewhere far, far away."

He uttered a short, ugly laugh. He pulled his knees up and hid his face behind them. "I'm nothing but a pathetic little coward. I couldn't save my family and I won't be able to save you either. When it really counts, I'll just stand there and watch while he destroys the only good thing in my life. Just wait and see," he whispered shamefully.

His voice had been muffled by his legs and barely audible, but Lisbon had heard every word, though she doubted that had been his intention. Before she could answer and put him straight, their two teammates appeared in the door.

"Thank heaven, you're here," she exclaimed. "I'll check the rest of the apartment for signs of disturbances and pack a few things for us together with you, Cho. Grace, stay here with Jane. I want to leave ASAP. I know we should probably call crime scene specialists, but somehow I doubt it'll help in any way. We already know who the intruder was."

"But we should make sure he didn't leave any other surprises, boss," Cho said.

They left the entrance area and checked the kitchen and the rooms upstairs. Nothing seemed to be out of place though and they concluded that Bertram had only entered the living room and left his message in order to give them a scare. Considering that he'd reacted to their kiss in the park at such a short notice, anything more elaborate wasn't very likely anyway.

Finally sufficiently convinced of that, Teresa took a bag and packed some of her and Patrick's clothes and their toiletries and other essentials.

* * *

**TBC**

**Sorry, but even reviews won't make plush Daisy whole again. I'll still appreciate them very much...**


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Wow - chapter 50 and over 150 000 words! I never ever expected for this fic to reach such proportions when I started my story arc and I'm still going strong and having lots of fun with it... and it's definitely a good time to thank my beta 'firstdown' again for her excellent work and all the time and effort she's already put and is still putting into my work, so thank you very much! You've been a great help and I like to think that you've made me improve as a writer with all your thoughtful comments and encouragement.  
**

* * *

**Warning: Still rather angsty, which is to be expected considering the circumstances...**

* * *

Meanwhile Van Pelt tried to comfort the consultant. She sat on the floor beside him and cast him worried glances. He'd recovered some of his poise but his overactive brain didn't give him much of a break. He came up with one scenario after the other in which he caused the death of his loved ones. As he didn't share his thoughts, Grace had no idea what was going on in his mind and only saw his far away look. Finally she addressed him. "How are you doing, Jane?"

He flinched a bit because he'd been too absorbed by his contemplation to take much notice of anything else. "Oh, hi Grace. I'm fine," he answered automatically, not convincing her in the least.

"Fine?" she inquired with raised brows. "I very much doubt that. You're scheming, aren't you? You had that certain look…"

He shook his head and turned sad eyes on her. "You give me too much credit, I'm afraid. I wish I had even the slightest inkling of a plan. I'm just imagining worst-case-scenarios," he admitted in a rare moment of open honesty.

"Well, don't," the young woman scolded him. "We'll get him this time, Jane. He's desperate, don't you see that? This-," she indicated the living room, "-is a sign of desperation. He's pushing all your buttons because he knows he's lost," she said with determination.

Patrick cast her a very small smile. "I'm glad you're still so optimistic, Grace. I seem to have lost my positive outlook. I only see moles and conspiracies and my own deficiencies." His voice sounded lifeless and hollow.

"I can't believe you're giving up now, Jane. We've never been so close." She looked really angry. "What's happened with you? You let that bastard manipulate you like this? That's not the Patrick Jane I know and love. What the hell do you think you're doing? Letting him win now that he's about to lose? Shame on you, Jane. Shame on you!"

She got to her feet and moved away from him. "If you're gonna wallow in self-pity, I sure as hell won't sit next to you," she spat at him. "We will get him, Jane, and he'll pay for what he's done to you and many other people as well. You can either sit around like a coward or you can use your resources to help us. Your choice. I'll wait outside."

She turned to leave. "Wait!" he cried in agitation and jumped to his feet. "Please wait, Grace."

The redhead stopped in her tracks and wheeled around to face him again. "You've got something useful to say, Jane?" she asked rather coldly.

He lowered his head and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry, Grace. You're right – on all accounts. I'm behaving like an idiot, I know. It's just… I think this is the first time I'm actually acknowledging this situation. Before it's always been just big talk. Like I'll slice him open, make him suffer, blablabla. But now… now it's suddenly so real. And before I never had anything to lose, not really. My only purpose was to kill him or die trying. Now… well, it's different now."

His face came up and he locked eyes with her. "It's very hard to cope with hope, Grace. I feel weak and vulnerable. For years I've been trying to stay as unattached as possible. To avoid this." He sighed deeply. "Everything's changed now, and I… seems like I haven't quite managed to catch up with it all. And now I don't have the time to do it and it's overwhelming. I'm sorry."

* * *

With two steps the young woman closed the gap between them and pulled the distraught man into a hug. "I understand," she whispered in his ear. "I'm afraid, too. But we're stronger than him, and you, Patrick, you are smarter than him. We need you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Grasshopper. I appreciate it. Though I'm not entirely sure you're right," he replied, pulling her closer for a moment before releasing her.

"Well you are. Smarter than him, I mean. I'm glad you're on our side because if YOU were a criminal mastermind, we'd never catch you," she teased him.

He grinned deviously but turned serious again immediately. "Thank you, Grace. Really, I mean it. Thanks for putting me straight. I'm a mess right now and I guess I needed that kick in the butt."

"Someone had to do it and as the boss is busy right now…" She cast him a devious grin of her own. "What can I say? Kicking it is obviously the only thing I'll ever be allowed to do with your delectable behind, so I had to take advantage of the situation."

Jane appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood. He bent forward with a small smile and said quietly into her ear, "Delectable, huh? Don't let Lisbon hear that. She's a bit possessive. And between the two of us: she might be on the smallish side, but she's scarier than she looks."

"Indeed I am," came Teresa's voice from right behind him. "What do the two of you have to whisper about?" She cast her female teammate a thankful look, relieved that her lover didn't seem to be all withdrawn and desperate anymore.

Said lover turned around the second he'd heard her and pulled her into a strong embrace. "Grace was just complimenting my finer assets, love. After thoroughly kicking them, I might add. Nothing to worry about," he murmured, before his lips found hers.

After a short but deep kiss Lisbon said, "Well, as long as she knows, who they belong to…" Addressing the other woman she added possessively, "I'll let you get away with kicking his ass this once, Van Pelt. But for future reference: it's my prerogative to do so, understood?"

Grace's lips crept up and her mouth turned into a bright smile. "You're so cute together."

"I think, you're losing your touch, love. She's not scared of you anymore. Can you imagine? She just called her boss cute," Patrick teased his girlfriend.

"And who's fault is that?" Lisbon slapped his arm. "But just you wait – she'll quiver in her boots again, when I assign her night patrol duty for a year."

The redhead blanched a bit. "You wouldn't, would you?" she inquired a bit uncertainly.

"Well, don't tempt me," the senior agent replied with a small smile. Then she grabbed Patrick's hand and directed him towards the door. "Let's get out of here. Though he obviously only went into the living room, I have no intention to spend any more time here right now. And we still need to talk to LaRoche."

* * *

About half an hour later Jane and Lisbon knocked on the office door of the head of the Professional Standards Unit. "Agent Lisbon, Mr. Jane. What a surprise. I never expected you to enter my office voluntarily," the overweight agent greeted them with a guarded smile.

"Well, you know that we're full of surprises, J. J.," Patrick couldn't help but tease him.

Lisbon smacked his arm. "Jane, behave yourself. Just leave it be for once," she scolded him.

Her lover cast her an apologetic look. "Sorry. I guess it's some kind of reflex," he murmured. Then he addressed LaRoche. "Am I right to assume that you check your office for bugging on a regular basis, sir?"

"Not that it is any of your business, Jane, but yes, I do," was the unperturbed answer of the other agent.

"Good," the consultant replied and closed the office door firmly behind him. Without waiting for an invitation he sat down in one of the visitor chairs in front of LaRoche's desk. "We need to talk. And for the sake of the whole of the CBI and the lives of many people in this state, I ask you to let bygones be bygones for the time being." He cast his counterpart a serious and honest look. "I know I've been a thorn in your side, J. J., but I mean it. Can we work together for once instead of against each other?"

The other man examined Jane intently. He seemed pleased with what he saw and finally nodded. "Yes, Mr. Jane. I can work with you. This is about Red John, isn't it? It's the only possible situation in which I can imagine you would make such a request. And Agent Lisbon? Why don't you take a seat as well?"

Teresa followed his invitation and sat down beside her teammate. But she let Jane continue with the talking. In this instance she presumed it to be the better option. Those two had to work it out between themselves. "Yes. This is about Red John. I'm not totally but sufficiently convinced that you're not in league with the bastard. And we need your support."

LaRoche looked at the blond man stoically. "I'm sure your seeming paranoia is well deserved. It won't make much of a difference, but you have my word that I'm not connected to any serial killer. And I'm willing to assist in any way I can. What exactly do you want from me?" He scrutinized both of his visitors.

Jane searched the other man's face. "We know who Red John is. And due to the identity of the bastard, we have to assume that quite a few members of both the CBI, and other law enforcement bodies are connected to him, J. J." His expression turned even more serious if possible. "This opens a can of worms, as you can imagine. It's safe to assume that Red John's about to plan some major showdown. But as the matter stands, we don't even know what SWAT-team to trust."

Though to the uninformed viewer LaRoche didn't so much as blink, Patrick could see that he was intrigued and a bit unsettled as well. "It might be prudent to come out with the name now, Mr. Jane. Unless I have all the information I'm neither willing nor able to help you," the overweight agent said in his irritatingly neutral voice.

For once Jane didn't rise to the bait. "The name might not surprise you as much as most," he told him. "He was on your shortlist for the Johnson-murder. As it turns out – probably well deserved."

"I see. Considering the rest of what you've said so far – am I right to assume that we're talking about the ex-director?"

Patrick only nodded in affirmation. At this point Lisbon decided to chime in. "Yes. And we have evidence that supports this, sir."

"I didn't doubt it, Agent Lisbon. You wouldn't be here with him-," he nodded in Jane's direction, "-if all you had were untenable accusations. Are you willing to share the facts with me?"

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a wordless discussion with their eyes. In the end they seemed to agree on a course of action and the senior agent began the explanation. When she was finished, LaRoche's expression showed more worry than either of his visitors had ever seen before. "You're in serious danger, Agent Lisbon," he said. "It's a wise decision to spend the night together with your team and Madeleine Hightower. You should have some additional security stationed outside her house. I understand your doubts, but I'm rather sure, I can assemble a team of trustworthy agents. That's what you've come here for, isn't it?"

It was Jane who answered. "Yes. You know more about the employees than anyone else. And you're sharp. You seemed like the only logical choice. You like Lisbon, don't you? Please, sir. Make sure she's safe."

The consultant's voice was imploring and caused the other man to raise his brows a tiny little bit in honest astonishment. He'd never expected Patrick Jane to ever beg him for anything. This was the clincher that confirmed his suspicion. "You love her," he stated. "And Red John knows."

"Yes," the blond man whispered.

J. J. LaRoche wasn't a vindictive man and under his prickly exterior he was softhearted and in all honesty a sucker for romance. Jane represented a lot of the things he despised. The man didn't respect rules and order. He used his incredible mind to seek personal vengeance and seemed to think he could take the law into his own hands.

That the consultant was a force to be reckoned with was something LaRoche had long since admitted. He was smarter than most and when he used his resources to close cases that was well enough. Some small allowances could be made. But Jane had crossed the lines a few too many times in J. J.'s opinion. Still, he'd always had one redeeming quality in his eyes: as selfish and obsessive as he was, in his own way he was loyal to both Lisbon and her team.

And now he had witnessed something else. Faced with the threat against someone he truly loved, the seemingly proud and arrogant man was ready to beg for his help. And for some reason LaRoche didn't feel the slightest inclination to humiliate him for it. On the contrary: for the first time since he'd met Patrick Jane he felt something like personal respect for his former opponent.

"I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe, Patrick," the head of Professional Standards said with determination. "I'll actually take personal part in the security detail, if necessary."

"Thank you," Jane replied with genuine gratitude. Then he fished something out of his jacket pocket. "Here's a clean phone for you. We all have one. Our numbers are already in the address book. As you've been closely connected to the case, it's likely that your phone's bugged. Better use this one when talking to us." He handed it over to LaRoche. "I'm glad, we're on the same side, sir. I really appreciate it that you don't let old grievances stand in the way. For what it's worth: I apologize for my obnoxious behavior."

The overweight man gave him a once over again. "No need to make half-assed apologies, Mr. Jane. In reality we've always been on the same side. You might not always have wanted to be, but it's the truth. And I'm sure that we both hold some grudging respect for each other. Wouldn't you agree? So let's look forward and concentrate on the matter at hand."

They shook hands on it and the former supervising agent suggested they should get to Hightower's house at once, while he would arrange the security detail. It was already past five and a lot of the employees had left, so Lisbon's presence as the acting supervisor wasn't needed anymore. In lieu thereof they agreed with LaRoche and after collecting all the necessary case files and their colleagues, they left HQ when a call to Rigsby had confirmed that the rest of their slumber party was on the way to the Hightower residence as well.

* * *

**TBC**

**Another ally secured - go Team Jisbon! **

**Thanks to all my reviewers. You're all so incredibly kind and encouraging and I really appreciate your support! Same applies to my loyal readers - I'm glad you've followed me all the way to chapter 50!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Warning: What can I say - still a bit angsty...**

* * *

"We should get some groceries on the way," Jane said, when the Homicide team sans Rigsby had left the CBI parking lot together in one of the SUVs. "I'm sure poor Madeleine doesn't have what it takes to feed a Rigsby. I volunteer to make dinner."

"Why don't we just order something? Are you really willing to cook after the day you've had?" Van Pelt asked with raised brows and complete astonishment in her voice.

Cho glared at her. "You better shut up if you know what's good for you," he told her.

She eyed him with confusion. "What's gotten into you, Cho? I just thought we should keep things as easy as possible."

"Never, I repeat, **never** turn down an offer of a homemade dinner from Jane, rookie," Cho deadpanned. "When it happens, you just count your blessings and accept."

Van Pelt shook her head. "You're still not making much sense, Cho. Do you even know whether Jane knows how to cook?"

Cho nodded eagerly, but his expression revealed some exasperation. "Sometimes you can be nearly as dense as Rigs. What do you think I was talking about? Of course I wouldn't have said what I said if I didn't know he could cook."

Her face showed a mixture of anger at the insult and embarrassment at her little blunder, the latter emotion taking over more and more when Cho expounded, "And you were the one who got those chocolate truffles from him. Should've clued you in enough to catch onto the fact that the guy must know his way around a kitchen."

Lisbon decided to step in at the point to prevent her teammates from venting their frustrations of the day on each other. "Stop it – both of you. Cho, leave her alone. She hasn't had the opportunity to savor Jane's cooking yet and maybe ordering something might just be the most prudent option for tonight anyway."

"Nope," Jane chimed in. "I'm definitely going to do some cooking tonight. It'll give me the chance to unwind a bit and think." A little sheepishly he added, "I'm afraid I have to admit that I'm slightly tense right now." The others just rolled their eyes at his obvious understatement. "Doing something hands-on will help me to focus," he went on unperturbed. "There's a super-store right ahead of us, Lisbon. Let's do the shopping there. I know from an earlier visit that it's quite well-assorted."

The senior agent manning the wheel nodded, signaled the exit and cast the consultant a sideways glance conveying her understanding. "All right, Patrick." With a warm smile and teasing tone to lighten the mood she added, "But you're paying."

He only grinned and uttered an exaggerated groan that had both Cho and Van Pelt snicker, before the car came to a stop in front of the store.

* * *

They got out and proceeded through the aisles in pairs following Jane's instructions on what exactly to get. Half an hour later they reconvened at the checkout, where their consultant instantly paid for the rather expensive purchases without batting an eye.

And even though she still vividly remembered their talk about money and his reassurance that he got by nicely, Lisbon felt a bit bad about letting him pay - especially as Cho kept casting her meaningful glances while they put the groceries into the trunk, a fact which again didn't escape Jane's notice. "Do you have a problem with your eyes, Cho?" he asked innocently, handing him the last of the bags. "It looks like you're squinting something awfully. Need a doctor?" He grinned deviously, knowing well that the other man liked medical facilities about as much as he did.

"Shut up, Jane," Cho grunted all the while trying to hand the blond man a twenty dollar bill as discreetly as possible right after slamming the trunk door shut.

Jane's eyes narrowed dangerously when he held out the note the other man had just tried to smuggle into the pocket of his suit-jacket, and waggled it under Lisbon's nose. "What the hell's that supposed to mean, Lisbon? Why's Cho trying to give me charity?" With that he pushed the money back into the Asian man's hand and glared at his girlfriend.

Lisbon blushed a little and looked sheepishly. "Please, Patrick. You're reading too much into this. I'm sure he just wants to pay his share of the food."

"Liar," Jane accused her angrily. "Why did you talk about it with him? It's none of his business, and you had no right to do that, Lisbon."

"Come off it, Jane. It wasn't like that. I was angry and you weren't available. I needed to talk with someone." Lisbon tried to calm him. "Please don't make this bigger than it is. He just came over when I needed to vent my frustration. He brought the tequila and we had a few shots."

"And you couldn't wait a few short hours and talk with me instead?" he asked in agitation. When she shook her head he scowled. "For future reference, Lisbon: I don't appreciate my financials to be discussed with every Tom, Dick, and Harry," he huffed angrily.

"Excuse me, Jane, but I'm not exactly a complete stranger, okay? Stop giving her a hard time. She needed a friendly ear and that's all. It's your own fault anyway for agreeing to that ridiculous contract in the first place," Cho intervened, miffed at the attack at his boss and friend.

At that point Lisbon stopped her second in command with a vigorous hand gesture. "No, Cho. Please keep out of it. You don't have all the facts, okay? And Jane?" She turned in the direction of her lover and continued with an air of authority, "It was just about the contract, nothing else. And now I'm fed up with standing in a parking lot like this and arguing. This is neither the time nor the place. And it's a moot point anyway considering current events. Agreed?"

Jane nodded with reluctance and his eyes conveyed that they'd have a discussion about this at a later date to which she rolled her eyes. When his face darkened again afterwards, she stepped over to him and took hold of one of his hands. "Please, Patrick. We're all very wound up right now. Let's not dwell on this, okay?" she pleaded with him.

Unable to resist her, he nodded again and squeezed her hand. Both a very confused looking Van Pelt and a stoic Cho sighed with relief and got into the car. The rest of their trip to Hightower's home was spent in slightly awkward silence.

* * *

Three and a half hours later found the members of the homicide team plus Hightower - who'd given Jane reign of her kitchen after some reassurance from Lisbon - leaning back in their chairs, stomachs filled and extremely satisfied. Rigsby groaned contentedly and said with admiration, "If I had the money, I'd hire you as my personal chef, Jane. I've honestly never eaten such a perfectly done rib-eye in my life. And that béarnaise sauce was just wow."

"I'm so glad I was able to satisfy your exacting food standards, Rigsby. I'd be very worried otherwise," the consultant teased his teammate. "But you're right, of course. The béarnaise turned out especially well this time around, if I may say so myself." He sported a smug grin.

This earned him a round of exasperated looks, but since the meal had in fact been sheer poetry, nobody had the heart to really call him out on his annoying complacency for once.

"At least I know now why you insisted we shouldn't order take-out, Cho," Van Pelt added with a happy sigh. "I'm sure I won't be able to eat anything for the next two days, but it was so worth it." She sent a warm smile in Jane's direction. "Thank you, Jane." The others murmured in agreement.

Returning the gesture with a genuine smile of his own he answered, "You're very welcome, Grace. It was my pleasure." The last part was also directed at the rest of their party. "The cooking really helped me to center myself, so I'd call this a true win-win situation." At their slightly hopeful and expectant looks he rambled on, "Not that I've come up with anything concrete or useful. Sorry. Unfortunately that bastard's still the one calling the shots, but well… you know… Sorry…" He stopped talking, bent his head and looked very uncomfortable.

Lisbon, who sat to his right, decided to allow for yet another PDA and took his hand between hers to reassure him. Addressing everybody she said, "I suggest, we go over all the pertinent facts once again and call it an early night afterwards. This has been a very taxing day for all of us. LaRoche'll stop by any minute now and update us on his security measures." With a look in Jane's direction she added, "He called me a while back and told me that he's going to be part of the guard tonight. I'm sure he'd appreciate it greatly if you'd provide him with some of the left-over food, Patrick."

"I'll prepare a plate for him," Jane answered and got up eagerly, thankful he had something to do. Being unable to come up with a brilliant scheme was a very disconcerting experience for him. And though it wasn't the first time he had gotten stuck during an investigation, it was especially frustrating because it only seemed to happen where Red John was concerned.

Right now, the best he could offer was a decrease of the paralyzing panic that had taken a hold of him throughout the day and impeded his ability to think clearly. During a major part of the past 14 hours, the thought of losing Lisbon had been so all consuming it had felt like his heart was physically aching.

As a consequence he'd felt utterly helpless, which in turn had led to him beating himself up over being such a useless wimp. Grace's pep talk had helped but the tension had lingered. The task of cooking had relaxed him enough to somewhat regain his composure but it was fragile at best. His inability to offer the team new insights and their visible disappointment at this fact (and him) had chipped away at his self-confidence once again.

He stood at the kitchen counter feeling the nagging sting of failure, preparing a plate for the head of Professional Standards, just going through the motions. So when two arms came around his waist he flinched because he hadn't heard Lisbon's approach. "What's wrong, Patrick?" she asked him carefully, stroking up and down his chest. "I've never seen you so keyed up before, at least not like this."

He finished his task before he answered tersely, "I'm fine."

She snorted. "Yeah, right." When he didn't elaborate, she sighed. "Okay, you obviously don't want to talk about it, but you will – later. Right now you better come back to the dining room. J. J. has arrived and we'd like to go over the facts." She released him.

Jane took the plate and followed her out of the kitchen with a heavy heart. The last thing he wanted to do was facing his shortcomings yet again, and that's what repeating the pertinent facts – or rather the lack thereof – would mean.

So when they arrived he put the food down in front of the bald man and turned on his heels, ready to re-exit the room. "What do you think you're doing, Jane? You're meant to sit down and help us sort through this mess," Lisbon admonished him.

"Ah, thanks, but no thanks. I'll give this one a pass. I'll be in the kitchen cleaning," he answered while leaving, trying and only partly succeeding to look indifferent.

"Jane," Lisbon huffed. "Could you please stop being so difficult?"

"I'm not being difficult, I just have better things to do. What's the point of this anyway? Not much to go over as far as I know. I'm sure my time can be spent in a much more useful manner in the kitchen. I for one don't have anything to contribute," he replied derisively and left.

* * *

The remaining agents shared worried looks. "This is really affecting him," Hightower said, expressing what everybody thought. "He takes this momentary impasse as personal failure, doesn't he, Teresa?"

Lisbon nodded. "I think so."

"And he's very afraid of losing you, Boss," Van Pelt added quietly. "He had a minor break-down at your apartment. Said he would get you killed and that he's all bark and no bite whenever it really counts."

Rigsby mused, "Guess his past's really catching up with him. Sometimes with him being all cocky and aloof, it's so easy to forget what he's been through. I mean, I can't even imagine losing Ben…" He stopped and seemed lost in his thoughts. He collected himself and went on, "Ever since I became a father, I've kind of gotten a whole new understanding for his obsession with Red John. If someone did this to my baby, I'd…" He stopped again and looked up sheepishly, but the others at the table just nodded.

Madeleine knew, she'd do everything to protect her children. She didn't believe in self-administered justice but she could understand why Jane felt so strongly about the matter. She didn't really know about his intentions or how they might've been altered lately due to the changed status of his relationship with Lisbon. But she had a rather clear conviction that his plans for the serial killer didn't necessarily involve a fair trial and a prison cell.

Van Pelt had her own trauma to deal with when it came to Red John. The mere possibility of that bastard getting out of jail somehow with all his connections and manipulations made her shudder. She had to admit to herself that she wanted him dead, no matter how. Furthermore, she had a soft spot for Jane and she really wanted for him to finally get closure. Bertram in a prison cell wouldn't do that.

Cho believed in justice. Strongly. And he knew that the system didn't always grant it, though he wished it to be otherwise. Thus, he wouldn't mind one way or the other, as long as that monster got what he deserved. He was fairly convinced that Red John wouldn't go down without a fight and that the chances of him being killed in self-defense were rather high. The ideal solution in Cho's book.

LaRoche had his own demons to fight with and a past that didn't allow for him to condemn anyone. Furthermore, Bertram had played him for a fool several times during the Johnson-investigation, which he took as an unforgiveable insult. His newly won personal respect for the consultant (and his incredibly delicious cooking) only added to his resolve to support this team in any way possible, even cover for them if necessary.

And for Lisbon, well, Lisbon had come to the conviction that the only possible way to stop someone as powerful, conniving, ruthless, and cruel as Red John involved the use of a deadly weapon. She couldn't get her head around a cold-blooded execution but just as Cho she desperately hoped for a situation that would force someone's hand. And she prayed that it wouldn't be Jane's hand because she doubted it would give him the closure he needed and felt sure it would open new wounds instead. She knew she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger herself if necessary, but in an ideal world it would be someone else because she didn't want the deed to stand between her and Patrick.

* * *

They all spent several minutes in mute contemplation, the noises emanating from the kitchen the only audible sounds. The clunking in the background had a rather soothing effect and though they obviously couldn't know it, they all felt the same reassurance at the fact that their teammate/colleague/friend/lover was at least somewhat present that way.

Lisbon finally broke the silence. "Okay, let's get this over with. I for one have another daunting job ahead of me tonight, namely helping our consultant to pluck up his courage."

They gave her encouraging smiles and the following briefing went over smoothly. To be honest, the whole affair was rather useless because they'd gone over the facts so many times already and all new information had been shared immediately. Still, it was their usual procedure and keeping to the accustomed way of operation gave them at least a sense of normalcy and accomplishment.

By the time they'd finished their meeting the sounds from the kitchen had stopped as well. Lisbon excused herself and went in search of her boyfriend. She found him hovering just outside the kitchen. She took hold of his arm and dragged him upstairs to the guest room Madeleine had appointed to them. With determination she closed the door and pinned him to it, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

* * *

**TBC**

**I promise there'll be some M-rated action in the next chapter. I hope you'll enjoy the anticipation... **

**Reviews are like a rib-eye steak prepared by Jane: hopefully not too rare and deserving the use of the phrase 'well done' ****only**** as words of praise... (yes, I do prefer my steak medium rare...).  
**


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